Breaking Away
by Perspex13
Summary: After solving a case that brings him to the attention of the FBI, Castle pursues new opportunities to meet old goals while addressing imbalances in his professional and personal lives. Sequel to "Just Along for the Ride," which was set in Season 4 but goes AU from there.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Breaking Away

Rating: T

Timeline: Sometime in the latter part of Season 4. Follows "Just Along for the Ride," but goes AU from there.

Summary: After solving a case that brings him to the attention of the FBI, Castle pursues new opportunities to meet old goals while addressing imbalances in his professional and personal lives.

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: "Just Along for the Ride" sets the context for this story. Characters introduced in that story reappear here, so reading the earlier fic will help this one make sense. If you don't want to read that, imagine that Castle solved a high-profile case in which the FBI was involved, but Captain Gates disavowed the significance of his contributions at a highly publicized press conference.

A/N2 (Revised after completion): This is a long story, focused on developing some of the themes, relationships, and plotlines from the show. Please be warned, though, that it starts rough - Castle's in a bad place after the events of Just Along for the Ride, and he's pretty fired up in the first chapter. This causes some people to turn away early. I'd ask you to give it three chapters before deciding whether to continue.

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* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Thursday afternoon**

"This is ridiculous. I'm going to talk to her," Beckett says as she looks up from her desk in frustration and glances towards Captain Gates' office. It's early Thursday afternoon, two days since the team has been working on a case involving a dead body found in dumpster in an alley off Custer Avenue. Desperate to get some traction on their case, some new lead to follow, the team is anxious to see if Castle has any suggestions. Unfortunately, it's been seven days since Gates' suspended Castle's consulting privileges at the 12th Precinct.

That Thursday morning a week ago had started well. Beckett had slept deeply and without disturbance, despite the disastrous press conference on Wednesday. In that conference, Captain Gates opted to deny Castle's participation in the Cartwright Case, a high-profile investigation that started with a double homicide and led to significant other charges, most notably jury tampering, extortion, and kidnapping. And anyone participating in the investigation – the NYPD, the FBI, the ME's office, or the DA – knew that Castle was personally responsible for saving the kidnapping victim and the key contributor to subsequent investigations.

Gates' statement at the press conference was a stunning betrayal, all the more so since it was certain to be contradicted by subsequent media leaks. Following the press conference, Castle had slipped out of the precinct before Beckett could commiserate with him. She had called Castle repeatedly, getting only his voicemail. She had texted, too, and hoped that the lack of a response meant that he was spending time with Alexis or enjoying a well-earned early night. Finally, throwing caution and maybe propriety to the wind, she'd made a late-night visit to the loft.

**Castle's Loft, 11:30 PM, 8 Days Earlier**

Beckett shifted from foot to foot after knocking on the door to the loft. That she was on unstable emotional ground was apparent from the absurd amount of thought she had put into her knock – loud enough to be heard, not so loud as to wake the household – ridiculous, she thought.

Just as she was reconsidering whether she'd applied the optimal amount of force to her strikes on the door, it opened to reveal a groggy Castle.

"Sorry, I fell asleep on the couch. Living up to my boast proved more taxing than I thought," Castle explained as he ushered her inside.

"So, you weren't just spinning a line when you said that you were going to sit in front of the fire with your feet kicked up, drinking wine while you counted your blessings?" Beckett paraphrased with a grin.

"Well, it was all part of the story. But, it sounded good, so I thought I'd give it a try," Castle grinned, but he didn't quite manage to hide his melancholy. Glad that she knew him well enough to see it, Beckett was also glad that he had provided an opportunity for her to say what she'd wanted to say earlier that day.

"I'm sorry that we didn't have the chance to talk at the precinct. I was so shocked by that … infuriating nonsense, that by the time I saw you, the elevator was closing," she began, slowly. Even with the gentle lead-in, Castle had begun to turn away. She knew she was at risk of losing him, either to his warranted dejection from earlier in the day or to false bravado to hide his dismay. So, she decided to play dirty, using a trick learned from her father.

"You left before I had a chance to give you this," Beckett said, withdrawing a closed hand from her pocket and holding it out to Castle, ready to drop something into his palm. Castle had looked at her curiously, then gamely held out his waiting hand.

Beckett opened her hand, but it was empty. Completing her ruse, she used her empty hand to grasp Castle's, while bringing her other hand up to complete the clasp. "You left before I could tell you how brilliant you were on this case." Castle tried to look away, but Beckett maneuvered her head to stay in his line of vision and squeezed his hand, getting him to refocus back on her. "Forget Gates – we'll settle her tab later. You and I both know that _you_ saved Brooke, _you_ broke Manelli, and _you_ rolled it up and hung it on Cartwright."

"Do you know what I was thinking about when you left?" Beckett continued. "I was thinking about how many people would have been hurt if you hadn't left your meeting to join us Monday morning. Such a simple decision, but as a result you helped people, saved people. _Thank you_."

Castle stared at their hands and said nothing for a few moments. Then, taking a deep breath, he looked up at her. Though he didn't smile, he seemed lighter, happier. "I know I shouldn't need to hear it, but I can't deny that I feel better now," Castle said. "Thank you."

After releasing his hand, Beckett took a half-step back and tried to change the tone. "Go get some rest, Castle. You've clearly earned it, and it's time that you reintroduced yourself to your mattress after dallying with the precinct chair and your couch. Get some sleep and we'll start fresh in the morning."

"Beckett, I'm so tired that I'm not going to avail myself of any of the ample innuendo opportunities you provided. Rain check?" he said with an enormous yawn and back-popping stretch.

"You're just drawing down your excess balance," Beckett replied with a wink as she headed for the door, "Goodnight, Castle."

"Goodnight, Detective," he replied with a smile.

As she walked down the corridor to the elevator, Beckett felt an uncommon sense of satisfaction. Her past, especially lately, wasn't littered with examples of handling personal conversations well. But this visit was an exception. She'd shelved her misgivings, sought out her partner, and provided a heartfelt thank you without worrying about walls or precedents or expectations. That he so clearly benefited from hearing it was proof that her effort was worthwhile. She was glad that he hadn't answered his phone or responded to her texts, as that turning point led to this tiny, perfect moment.

She should have expected that it would all fall apart within hours.

**The Old Haunt, 8:00 PM, 7 Days Earlier**

"Where's Castle?" asked Lanie as she approached the booth that Beckett, Ryan, and Esposito had claimed. "I didn't see him behind the bar. Is he down in his office?"

"That's the question of the day," Beckett said, looking a little worried. "We haven't seen him since this morning," says Beckett. "He was already at the precinct when I arrived," Beckett recalls, remembering the cup of coffee waiting on her desk. She had looked around to offer her thanks, and felt her heart sink when she saw him in Gates' office. The door was closed, but she hadn't needed to hear them to know that Gates and Castle were having a heated discussion that was escalating quickly. Gates looked furious, her flushed face looking fierce as her hand gestures slashed the air before her. Castle, on the other side of the desk, affected a proud, haughty look that was probably calculated to further antagonize Gates.

The confrontation had built to a crescendo until Gates stood quickly from her chair, slammed papers down on her desk, and thrust out a hand that pointed at the door. Castle rose slowly, buttoned his blazer with exaggerated calm, and walked out of the office, down the corridor, and into the stairwell. He had not returned.

"He was so angry when he left Gates' office this morning. So angry." Beckett recalled.

Concerned, Lanie looks toward Ryan and Esposito to gauge their reactions. "I wasn't there yet," Esposito said in response to her inquisitive look. Lanie turned to Ryan, who looked a little nervous.

"I got there just as he was leaving Gates' office," Ryan said. "Look, Castle's the writer, not me," he struggled. "He would have a better analogy than this, but it's what I thought of when I saw him. Have you ever been outside on a hot summer day and seen the shimmer over a road? You know, when the heat waves rising from the asphalt distort your vision? That's how he was when he left her office – the fury was just shimmering from him."

"And no word from him since then?" Lanie asked. "Is he even coming tonight?"

"We tried to call and text, but he only replied once, around lunchtime," Beckett said while fishing her phone from her pocketbook. She held the screen up to Lanie, displaying Castle's short text: **Everyone up for the Haunt at 8? Explain then**.

"I can't say that I blame him for being angry," Lanie said. "I don't know what in the hell your boss thought she was doing." After a pause, she looks around and drops her voice. "I've had nightmares about this," she confessed. "Do you remember how close we were to leaving that crime scene? We all wanted to, but Castle held us back. I get sick when I think about that little girl and what could've happened to her."

Just as Lanie's confession threatened to pull them all back into dark ruminations, Castle appeared out of nowhere with a tray laden with six beers, four cocktails, five empty glasses, a bucket of ice, and a bottle of exceptionally expensive scotch.

"Sorry, you'll have to order for yourselves," he joked weakly as he transferred the items to the table and handed the empty tray to a passing waitress.

"Rough day there, partner?" Beckett asked with false joviality.

Castle looked across the table at her. After a blank look, he huffed. Then chuckled. Then burst out laughing.

"Uh, Castle, honey, are you okay?" Lanie asked tentatively after a few minutes.

Quieting himself with some effort, Castle sighed, "What a day. What a hell of a day. I'm not sure why I laughed – I guess it's a default reaction, or maybe it was the only emotion left after this week." With that, he plinked some ice into a glass and poured himself a generous measure of scotch.

"If it's any consolation," Ryan offered, "you missed a thrilling day of paperwork. Not exactly a red letter day."

"Well," Castle offered, "I had paperwork of my own. And, I'll miss any paperwork that you all have for the next month."

"A month? What's going on, Castle?" Esposito questioned around a mouthful of beer, while Beckett looked on in wary silence.

"I'm setting new precedents, new records," Castle replied with a mocking celebratory fist pump. "Despite being an unpaid volunteer, today was the first day of my one-month suspension."

Seeing the shocked stares around the table, Castle continued. "I had already asked for two weeks away to tend to some writing. I think Gates wanted me to feel a bit of a sting, so she tacked on an extra two weeks."

"For what?!" Beckett railed suddenly. "Solving a headline-making case? Blowing everyone away in the interrogation room? Saving Brooke?" Castle seemed to cheer at the vigorously nodding of heads from the others at the table while Beckett spoke.

"For 'undermining authority' and 'negatively affecting the morale of the precinct,'" Castle stated in an imitation of Gates voice.

"You can't be serious," Beckett said.

"Look," Castle said, as he visibly tried to school his emotions, "this was inevitable after the press conference. I just thought it would take a little longer. But the _Ledger_ called her this morning to get her reaction to the statements of 'several unnamed sources in and out of law enforcement' who dispute her representation of my role on the Cartwright case."

"So, she's punishing you because her BS from the press conference is falling apart?" Esposito asked.

"Paula's involved. My agent," he answered the unasked question from Lanie's curious look. "I'd given her contact information to Dr. Eaton to make sure that Brooke was protected from the media. When Gates heard about Paula's involvement, she assumed that I was pushing the story. Hearing Martinez console me this morning about 'getting screwed by the boss on national television' certainly didn't improve her mood."

"Dr. Eaton was one of the _Ledger_'s sources?" Beckett asked. This made sense, as she would be the most sensitive about Castle getting recognition for his efforts on behalf of Dr. Eaton's daughter Brooke.

"She was one, and someone at the FBI was another. Probably Britton, at Wilson's direction," Castle says, while taking a generous pull from his glass.

"How do you know that?" Esposito asked. "Another Sherlock moment?"

"No," Castle huffed a laugh. "I spent the morning with Paula, finishing my Monday meeting. Then I spent the rest of the day with the Feds."

"What did _she_ want?" "What did _they_ want?" "_What_ meeting?" "_What_?!"

"Excellent," Castle chuckled. "Four for four," he said, referring to having prompted a question from everyone at once. "I guess we'll cover the FBI first?" he says as all detectives nod in interest.

"I was still steaming away from my little confrontation with Captain Gates when Agent Wilson called," Castle stated to say, before Beckett interrupted him.

"Little?" Beckett asked with a tone of disbelief. "Castle, I'm not sure when I've seen you so upset. And she was about to stroke out right there, based on the look on her face."

"Yeah, well, that's just round one. I think we'll have some interesting discussions in the near future." Castle said with a smile.

"You mean, after a month," Ryan said, though his intonation sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Mark my words: within two weeks, three tops, she'll reach out to me," Castle responded. "Probably on the excuse of some case or some administrative need, but she'll try for rapprochement. She might have even dinged me for a month's suspension so that she could play nice and drop the last week later, as a sign of 'good will.'" Castle finished, having put an embittered tone and air quotes on the last two words.

"This isn't some fantasy where we're supposed to be suddenly incapable of doing our jobs without you around, is it?" Esposito asked with a tone of menace. Castle noticed that Ryan was looking a little put out, too, and opted not to check Beckett's reaction.

"You want to play hardball, 'Sito? Alright, let's play." Castle's voice was eager, and toned down the direct challenge offered by his words.

"One: this team is better with me than without me. The data doesn't lie, and I've seen it. The effect on case closures is small, but it's statistically significant and it's positive." Having noted Esposito's look of confusion, Castle chuckled. "Not everyone is a fan of my presence at the precinct – obviously – so data is compiled and sent up the chain. I manage to obtain those files," he said with a sly grin, "and I have my best man analyze the data."

"Alexis?" Lanie asked, with an upraised eyebrow.

"Alexis," Castle confirmed with a proud smile. "But the better story from the data isn't total closure rate, it's case duration. Putting up with having me underfoot has significantly reduced your average time to close a case. We've looked at this both in relation to when I'm not around and in comparison to the marginal contribution from adding an average, _paid_ detective to an existing, three-person team."

In response to Ryan's inquisitive look, Castle grinned and said "I do my homework." Then, schooling his face to look serious again, he continued.

"Two: the precinct in general and Homicide in particular benefits directly from my presence," Castle stated.

The detectives at the table recognized Castle's gambit, suspected that he has something unexpected ready to refute the objections that he's trying to provoke. Ryan took the initiative but opted to wade in gently. "How so, Castle? It sounds like you're talking about something other than fame for inspiring fictional characters."

"I don't mean this to be as harsh as it might sound," Castle started, "but for detectives, you three can be pretty naive about non-criminal matters." Receiving only inquisitive looks from the detectives (and a smirking nod from Lanie that wasn't missed by others at the table), he continued. "I've been here for more than three years now. I started after the onset of the recession, but the economy has still been sluggish. City and state tax revenues have been down. Every other precinct has had some significant combination of budget reductions, support staff reductions, or wage and hiring freezes. Haven't you wondered the touch on the 12th has been so light?"

Castle paused to allow some thought before he continued. "The _last_ things that Bob or the Commissioner want me to write about are the demoralizing aspects of working for the city, about laying off or hamstringing the people who protect the public from criminals."

Castle leaned forward to drive his points home. "Gates knows all of this. She knows about my contribution to your cases, and she knows the halo effect of my writing provides insurance against budget and staff reductions. And she's not the only one. Other captains know the score, as do the officers looking to transfer into the 12th."

"So, trust me. When the Cartwright case starts to fade from memory, she's going to take a hard look at her situation and come calling. I'm looking forward to round two of our discussion." There was no mistaking the gleam in Castle's eye when he offered that final point.

"You know, Castle, I hadn't really thought about our budget. I'm not sure that I'm comfortable knowing that I'm getting off easier than other officers," Beckett offered, looking ill at ease.

"Comfortable or not, there's nothing you can do about it short of kicking me out. It's politics. It's as likely to bite you as benefit you. If I embarrass the department or offend the Commissioner, you can be sure that things will change quickly. That's one of the factors that's constrained my natural ebullience these last few years," Castle said with a wink.

"Nice to know that you've been so _muted _during your time with us," Beckett replied.

"So, you're going to hang out with the Feds until Gates calls you back, is that the plan?" Lanie asked, curious about getting the conversation back on track.

"As I mentioned, they called this morning, and I went to their offices in the afternoon. Wilson said that they wanted to go over my statement. We did that, and they asked for more details, but we finished in less than an hour. The rest of the afternoon was a sales pitch – no pretense about 'opportunities' this time, just a long discussion and meetings with different people in the New York office," Castle said, taking another drink.

"You met others besides Wilson and Britton?" Beckett asked, taking care to craft a question that mentioned Agent Britton without drawing attention to her interest in whether the attractive agent had again secured time with Castle.

"The afternoon started with the Dans, but I must've met 10, 15 other agents." Castle said. Reacting to Lanie's curious look, he clarified, "Dan Wilson and Danielle Britton – the Dans."

"How cute," Esposito offered gruffly.

"They don't think so," Castle said with a smile, prompting a laugh from Ryan.

"Are you going to take them up on their offer?" Ryan asked, forging in again when others seemed hesitant to do so.

"I'm thinking about it. You all remember Jordan Shaw?" Castle asked, provoking nods from the detectives. "She's at the headquarters in DC this week, so I'm going down to meet with her tomorrow. I'm bringing Alexis along, too, so that we can make a long weekend of it."

"But Castle," Lanie said, "why pursue the Feds if you think Gates will cave in two weeks? You getting tired of us?"

"For a number of reasons," Castle started carefully, then stopped. After thinking for a moment, he started again, "Two to share now, and others we can maybe talk about after DC. First, I'm working on a little case of my own. The Feds might be able to help me with that. Second, I'm not sure if I can return to the 12th even if Gates asks."

"What? You just told us about your contributions and the budget stuff, why couldn't you come back?" Esposito fired off.

"Something strange is going on with Bob and the Commissioner. I'm sure you noticed that Bob didn't exactly leap to my defense during the press conference. And how weird was it that the Commissioner didn't field the last question of the conference? Bob hasn't called since then either, which is out of character for him," Castle said.

"It might be nothing – maybe Bob's busy, maybe the political winds have shifted and he's creating some distance between us – but he's been my key both times I've had to bludgeon my way into precinct. Talking to the Feds gives me some leverage in case there's something odd going on, and it at least buys me some time to figure things out," Castle concluded.

"I guess that makes sense," Beckett said grudgingly, "but what was that bit about a case of your own?"

"That's not really something that I want to get into right now," Castle evaded. "Don't," he said with palm upraised after noticing that Beckett was preparing to ask more questions about it.

Looking annoyed, Beckett pursued the other thought that bothered her. "So, you were going to take two weeks off to write before any of this started? I thought you were ahead of schedule on your writing."

"I am. Or I was. I've had an idea for a book kicking around and I need to get it out of my head before I start losing it. I've got it outlined, I just need some time to focus to get it onto the page," Castle explained. "After next week, Alexis is on a school trip to the Southwest for a week, and then she's on school break for a week that she'll spend with Meredith. So, I've got two weeks to knuckle down and get this done."

"You can write a book in two weeks?" Lanie asked, impressed.

"It's pretty clear in my head. We'll see what happens when I try to push it out. Two uninterrupted weeks should get me there. Or at least mostly uninterrupted, because, you know. Meredith." Castle said with a shrug.

Starting another beer, Esposito chimed in. "But Castle, how are you going to write if you're separated from our inspirational influence?" Ryan chuckled and the two clinked the necks of their beer bottles together.

"It's not a Nikki Heat book," Castle started, causing all faces at the table to look up at him. "It's not Storm, either," he said, answering Beckett's unasked question. "It's not even a mystery, or thriller, or even a Richard Castle book. It's a novel, a story of dislocation and a search for redemption. I signed the contract with Davison Publishing this morning."

"What about Nikki Heat?" Lanie asked in a curious tone somewhere between betrayed and offended.

"Like Beckett said, I'm current in my contract with Black Pawn," Castle said, pausing to take another drink.

"Let me ask you this," Castle said, addressing the group in general while focusing on Beckett. "If Lanie and I were dating and we walked into this bar and she said 'I don't want you flirting with anyone here except Kate, because I know she's out of your league,' what would I do?"

"Hit on Beckett," both Ryan and Esposito replied immediately, in unison. Beckett caught Lanie's eye and guessed that both of them were stuck on the 'If Lanie and I were dating' portion of Castle's hypothetical.

"Exactly. How is that all of you know this about me but my ex-wife doesn't?" Castle asked. "My Black Pawn contract covers only mystery and thriller genres, as defined in the contract. So, I'm a free agent outside of those genres. And, if anything I write outside achieves certain sales or award benchmarks, I can opt out of my contract with Black Pawn and take Nikki with me."

"Is that the goal, to walk away from Black Pawn?" Beckett increasingly wary of this development.

"This new book is a totally new direction for me, and I'm not sure it will work out. But if it does, I'll terminate my Black Pawn contract. I don't like being underestimated or taken advantage of, and it feels like Black Pawn put me in a box that I can't escape. I might be happy to stay, but things are going to change."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

**A/N: The second entry is ready earlier than I thought it might be. We'll see if it provokes as much controversy as Chapter One. More on that in the A/N at the bottom of the chapter.**

* * *

_The Old Haunt, 8:00 PM, 7 Days Earlier_

_"This new book is a totally new direction for me, and I'm not sure it will work out. But if it does, I'll terminate my Black Pawn contract. I don't like being underestimated or taken advantage of, and it feels like Black Pawn put me in a box that I can't escape. I might be happy to stay, but things are going to change."_

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Thursday afternoon**

Thinking back on the conversation with Castle spurs Beckett into motion. "We're stuck, and Castle might be able to help. It's just foolish to keep him off the case just to be petty. I'm going to talk to Gates."

Being honest with herself, Beckett's looking for an excuse to reach out to Castle, feeling less secure than she did when she visited him the night of the press conference. It's been four days since his return from DC, and she's not heard from him. In fact, aside from some quick text messages on Sunday, she's not heard from him since their night at the Old Haunt. They had stayed late into the night and gotten increasingly silly, but Beckett never quite shook off her feeling of unease regarding Castle's plans with the FBI or Black Pawn. Since then, she's been wary of reaching out and disturbing his time with Alexis before her two-week departure.

She expects that both of those topics will feature in her conversation with Dr. Burke later this afternoon. After canceling last week's session in the midst of the Cartwright case, Beckett is actually looking forward to spending some time with the doctor, hoping that he can help her find some clarity as her professional life, or at least the part touched by Castle, seems to shift under her feet.

As she rises from her desk to approach Gates, her thoughts of Burke take her back to her police academy days. The classwork had included topics for the different divisions, and her mind returns to a lesson from White Collar that didn't make much sense at the time. "Moral hazard," the notion that people behave differently after being insured for risks, never seemed quite real to her. But she understands it perfectly now: would she be so willing to confront Gates if she didn't already have a session with Burke planned for later this afternoon?

From Gates' grimace upon looking up at Beckett's knock, it's clear that she's been waiting for this topic to arise.

"Detective, do I need to ask why you're here?" Gates says, starting the proceedings.

Beckett, though spoiling for a fight, is careful to not outright jeopardize her career or to provide fodder for a negative evaluation. "I want to talk about the Menendez case, the body found over off of Carver. We've hit some walls and I'm feeling like our efforts would be _accelerated_ if we consulted with Castle." Beckett congratulates herself on bringing up the point that Castle made about his participation hastening case closures. If Gates is really aware of this, then her comment should resonate.

"You're fully aware, Detective, that Mr. Castle has been asked to stay away from the precinct in the short term," Gates says testily.

"I'm sorry sir," Beckett says, playing coy. "Is Castle suspended, or is he just not supposed to come into the precinct? If it hastens progress on the case, I or members of my team could consult with him outside of the precinct."

Placing the papers she had been reading on her desk and finally focusing fully on Beckett, Gates laces her voice with disapproval. "Detective Beckett, do we really need to parse words? You have orders you do not like. Welcome to the police force. It happens to all of us. I suggest you accept those things you cannot change and figure out a way to work within your constraints. Dismissed."

"But, sir…" Beckett started.

"I said _dismissed_, Detective," Gates said with finality.

Frustrated with her poor performance in mounting an actual challenge to Gates, Beckett returns to the bullpen and the inquisitive looks from the boys.

"So, how'd it go?" Ryan asked.

"It didn't," Beckett says with some frustration as she shuts down her computer and retrieves her purse from the locked desk drawer. "I've got a doctor's appointment," Beckett says while placing the Menendez case folder into her purse. "After that, I might visit a friend, completely unrelated to our work in any way," she says with a defiant grin.

"Say hi to your friend for us," Esposito says with a wink.

* * *

"So, Kate, tell me how you've been since our last session," Dr. Burke asks to start off their session.

"Harried. Frustrated. Confused." Beckett says, not sure of where to start.

"Sounds like you've been busy. I take it you were involved in the Cartwright matter?" Burke asks with a knowing look. "Perhaps the press conference be a good place to start today's session?"

"I – how did you know about that?" Beckett asks, confused that Burke has cut to one of things bothering her even more quickly than usual.

"How did I know that you were involved, or how did I know that your Captain dissembled when addressing Mr. Castle's participation?" Burke asked with a small grin.

"Kate, I have seen many officers," he says with a penetrating look at Beckett, including her in his statement, "answering uncomfortable questions with what they think are convincing, plausible prevarications. I'm fairly adept at recognizing these situations, and your Captain isn't terribly convincing."

"You think she was lying?" Beckett asks, surprised both by the possibility and by Burke's uncharacteristic willingness to enter into a discussion rather than a series of questions.

"What do you think?" Burke asks, and Beckett laughs internally as her session shifts back into the normal pattern of answering Burke's questions.

"I think I've been too angry about what she said to spend as much time as I should have thinking about why she said it," Beckett ruminates. "I mean, you should have seen Castle on this case. He did everything – from initial discovery through the twists and turns, he was responsible for it. And then to be ignored, betrayed like that. I've just felt so hurt for him."

"I have spent some time thinking about why Gates would do this," Beckett continues, "but your question makes me realize that I've been overlooking something. I started from the assumption that Gates did this of her own initiative. But that might be wrong."

"Why do you say that?" Burke inquires. Beckett wonders if his question is motivated more by her therapy or his own curiosity. This is almost starting to feel like building theory during a case.

"After the press conference, Gates banned Castle from the precinct for a month after people questioned her statement. I pushed her on that today, trying to get her to at least acknowledge Castle's contributions." As usual, Beckett's thinking out loud as much as answering Burke's questions. "Something she said is bothering me – she told me that we all get orders we don't like but we have to live with them. I'm starting to wonder if she was talking about her situation rather than mine."

Articulating this thought opens a door in Beckett's mind and a motley collection of ideas and theories bursts through. If Gates was following orders, who would have told her to disregard Castle's contributions? With some dismay, Beckett realizes that while this theory might address Gates' statement, she's even more at sea in figuring out a motive for the press conference statements. Was Castle the target, or was Gates? Both?

Dr. Burke breaks in after letting Beckett ponder the implications. "Kate, it looks like you might have some new directions to consider as you think about the press conference. In the meantime, I'd like to go back and ask a few questions."

At Beckett's nod, Burke dives in. "You mentioned feeling hurt on Castle's behalf, that his contributions weren't recognized. Forgive my presumption, but this is a little uncharacteristic of your comments regarding Mr. Castle."

"What do you mean?" Beckett responds, confused. "He's my partner and his work should be appreciated."

"Kate, in our previous sessions you've talked less about Mr. Castle's contributions than you have about the disruption that he's caused in the precinct and your team. Am I mistaken?"

After a long pause, Beckett ventures an answer while keeping in mind Burke's initial comments about spotting prevarications. "You're probably right," she sighs. "You know, when Castle explained to us how he solved the Cartwright case – and he had to explain, because we had no idea how he did it – he mentioned something like this. He called Esposito on the fact we don't trust him, wondered when he'd start to get the benefit of the doubt."

"And how did that make you feel?" Burke follows with the obvious question.

"Guilty," Beckett admits, "because he's probably right. We do, I do take him for granted. I've gotten so used to him being there, pushing his way in. I guess I thought that because he didn't have to be there, that he's technically a volunteer, that he wouldn't want the same kind of regard or praise that the rest of us need."

"This sounds like a shift in your perspective on Mr. Castle, but you don't sound happy about this new view," Burke observes. "Has it caused problems for you or your partnership?"

"No. Not yet. Maybe?" Beckett responds, a little bewildered.

"Let's explore your second answer," Burke says kindly to draw Kate's attention back to him. "'Not yet' suggests a timing element, that something is changing. What is changing?"

"Castle's changing," Beckett says, "and it … scares me."

Carefully masking his shock at Beckett's free admission, Burke breaks down the issue. "Before we talk about your reaction, let's explore the cause. How is Mr. Castle changing?"

After a short pause to frame her answer, Beckett dives in: "This is all in confidence, right?" At Burke's nod, she resumes her answer. "Because this is his news, not mine. Castle is making some changes in his professional life. He's writing a novel, something completely different from what he's done in the past."

"And what about his current obligations with the Heat series?" Burke asks to make sure he understands the implications of this decision.

"He's still under contract for Nikki Heat, but he has the freedom to write outside of that genre. And if his novel does well, he can terminate the Nikki Heat contract."

"I see. So, success in his new venture would mean the end of Nikki Heat?" Burke asks, starting to understand Beckett's apprehension.

"It could. Castle said that he would be willing to stay with his current publisher and continue Nikki if the contract changes. If not, he can take Nikki and leave," Beckett explains.

"That's an interesting choice of words, Kate," Burke comments. "Is that what scares you about this scenario – that Castle 'can take Nikki and leave'"?

"That's part of the reason," Beckett admits. "I mean, the only reason Castle started at the precinct was because he needed a new direction for his writing," Beckett says as she runs a hand through her hair. "And now he's got a new direction that doesn't involve the precinct."

"I can see how that would be a concern. What is the other part of the reason that you mentioned?" Burke probes.

"Castle's a writer – he communicates on multiple levels and ordinary, pedestrian conversations can suddenly become metaphors for deeper issues without warning." Though stressed, Beckett smiles faintly as she recalls some of Castle's more unusual metaphors. "I can't help but think that's what's going on here – that his dissatisfaction with his publisher Black Pawn is a metaphor, or a parallel for his dissatisfaction at the precinct."

Burke perks up at this description and asks for details: "How so?"

"It goes back to what we discussed before," Beckett says with a sigh. "About appreciating Castle's contributions at the precinct. He's a worldwide best-selling author and he's willing to walk away from his publisher because he doesn't like the way he's being treated. Why wouldn't he walk away from the precinct when we don't take him seriously?"

"Kate," Burke says, "I can appreciate your concerns, but I think I see this situation slightly differently. Where you see doubt, I think there is actually reason for hope, or at least an opportunity for growth. Before we talk about that, though, I want to ask if your concerns about the parallel to Mr. Castle's changes to his writing is limited to the precinct or if there is something else bothering you about this situation."

"What do you mean?" Beckett asks.

"Let me put it this way: what is Mr. Castle to you?" says Burke.

"He's my partner," Beckett answers without hesitation. When Burke continues to look at her, she elaborates. "He's my friend. My best friend in some ways."

"When you spoke of failing to appreciate Mr. Castle's contributions," Burke asks, preparing for the question he expects to rock Beckett, "were you talking about him as a partner or as a friend?"

The question is met with a long silence as Beckett thinks, recalls. Dr. Burke is happy to sit in silence while she ponders, knowing that Beckett is working toward an answer.

"When we were talking," she begins, "I was thinking about Castle as my partner." After another pause, and in a smaller voice, she says "I've been so much worse as a friend."

Beckett sits in her chair, hands clasped together, shoulders drooped, and head down. The more she thinks about her answer, the more convinced she is that she spoke truly. Whatever her failings as a partner, her failings as a friend are far worse. Examples flash through her mind, starting with the most significant: her three month excision of Castle from her life. But there are others, and she starts to revisit them as she grows more and more introspective and brooding.

Dr. Burke interrupts her thoughts before they can grow too gloomy.

"Kate, I know that I usually try to push you with questions. That is often productive. It helps draw out and articulate some of the thoughts and conclusions that you might not have realized that you already had. But we've touched on some sensitive topics today. So, let's try a little role reversal. Let me be the one who talks for once," Dr. Burke says.

Intrigued, Beckett nods and looks inquisitively at Burke. "Where you see reasons for concern, I see reasons for optimism. Imagine Mr. Castle came to me and talked about feeling an imbalance in his personal and professional lives. What would you advise?"

"If I were you?" Beckett asks, making sure she understands the ground rules. "If I were you, I wouldn't advise anything. I'd pepper him with questions while looking stoic," she says with a teasing smile.

"I suppose I've earned that," Burke says with an almost smile. "What point would I try to make with my questions? Do you suppose I'd try to guide Mr. Castle to hitting reset and starting over?"

"No," Beckett says while thinking. "That seems like a last resort. You'd probably try to get him to make adjustments?" she says, uncertainly.

"Yes, you're on the track now. When we are challenged by imbalances in our life, it can be tempting to think about wiping the slate clean and starting over. But how many people quit a job due to dissatisfaction only to create the same situation again? Or leave an unsatisfying relationship only to recreate the same dynamic with a new partner?" Beckett winces at this analogy and hopes that her reaction wasn't apparent to Burke.

"If you are serious about changing the way that you are perceived, it takes work. Hard work, and a willingness to challenge the behavior that's affecting you. It's a difficult path, but one that is much more likely to contribute to personal satisfaction than walking away and hoping the next situation is better," Burke concludes.

"This is why I see hope in Mr. Castle's actions, as you've described them," Burke rounds back to their starting point. "He's dissatisfied with his publisher, but he's not walking away. He's challenging himself as a writer, and if successful, he's willing to consider staying in his current arrangement if the relationship improves. He's dissatisfied with how he is seen in the precinct, and he's challenging you and your team to recognize his contributions, not looking for something different."

"He doesn't need to look for something different, it came looking for him," Beckett says. At Burke's inquisitive look, she continues. "The FBI was part of the Cartwright case. They started wooing Castle before the case was done, and have been pushing hard since the press conference and Castle's suspension."

"So, the contributions that didn't warrant comment at the precinct brought him to the attention of the FBI?" Burke asks, betraying a little surprise by his tone. "Is Mr. Castle pursuing this opportunity?"

Hating that Burke unknowingly used the same word that the FBI has emphasized with Castle, Beckett shrugs. "He's talking with them. He's about to take a short break to write his novel, so I think he's just trying to understand their intentions right now."

"Has he told you about the outreach from the FBI?" Burke asks.

"Yes, he has. Well, mostly," Beckett hedges.

"Let me guess: he has told you about the professional opportunities, but perhaps not the personal opportunities?" Burke guesses.

Beckett is flabbergasted by this question, wondering exactly how Burke made this leap. This time the traces of a grin are unmistakable as Burke explains. "You checked your poker face at the door, and I am very glad that you did – it makes our sessions more meaningful. But without it, your flinches when you used the word 'wooing' and I used 'opportunity' were fairly apparent."

Beckett grimaces. She _hates_ it when she gives information away unintentionally, even when it's information that should be volunteered.

"We talked about Castle as writer and Castle as consultant. He's taking steps to rebalance his life for those first two things. But what about the third – Castle as your friend? Perhaps Mr. Castle does not see an imbalance there?" Burke asks.

An explosion of breath leaves Beckett's lungs. "No," she says, disgustedly. "No, that's the worst imbalance of all."

"Do you think he sees it as an imbalance?" Burke asks.

"Yes, he sees it," Beckett admits. "He's seen it far longer than I have."

"So why do you think he has not raised the issue of making changes in that aspect of your relationship?" Burke asks.

"I can think of a couple of reasons," Beckett speaks while she thinks. "I treated him terribly after my shooting, ignoring him for months. It might be that he's not willing to risk pushing me away again."

"Or," she continues, "it could be that he values working on the cases, that he fears a confrontation on the personal side would jeopardize his presence in the precinct."

She's still thinking and Burke doesn't interrupt her, though they've got to be well past the time her session was supposed to end. "Or," she continues, "he's trusting me to figure this out on my own, based on what he's doing in his writing and consulting life. Waiting to see if I recognize the imbalance and am willing to address it."

She hadn't really thought about it, but the last answer feels right. Castle knows that she in uncomfortable talking about these things, and that a direct conversation now would send her running. She knows he won't push her on this, won't run if there are no changes in the nature of their relationship. But she also knows that their relationship is undefined right now, with many possible paths branching into the future. He'll be here for her, but _how_ he'll be here, in what capacity, will be determined by how she treats him, what he's willing to accept from her.

In this moment Beckett makes a startling, upsetting realization. She has always assumed that Castle would be there for her, waiting patiently. _Always_. And that's right – he has been, even after she has treated him poorly. But she assumed that when she was ready to turn to him, Castle would be ready and willing to enter into whatever relationship she offered. It shocks her to think that when she comes to him, certain doors might be closed, certain paths blocked. What if she is finally ready for a romantic relationship and he is only willing to be a trusted confidant? What if her actions have already foreclosed the opportunity?

From the look on his normally inscrutable face, it's clear that Burke has recognized that Beckett's thinking in new directions, and not entirely comfortable ones.

"It looks like you have much to think about," Burke offers to recapture her attention. "Let those thoughts wander, see where they go, and perhaps you will be ready to discuss some of them in our next session." Seeing Beckett's grateful nod, he continues. "But I also have some homework for you: I want to add two more thoughts to those we've already raised."

Burke begins, "I want you to think about something you said earlier. When we were talking about why Mr. Castle might not be addressing an imbalance in your relationship, one of the reasons you considered was that antagonizing you might jeopardize his access to the precinct. This is the first time I can recall you suggesting that the reason Mr. Castle is at the precinct might not be you. In your answer, you suggested that Mr. Castle's goal was the precinct, and you were a gatekeeper. I'd like you to think about these two things. First, why is Mr. Castle at the precinct? Second, if his motivations have changed, when did they change and when did you notice?"

Beckett nods and goes through the motions of leaving: thanking Dr. Burke, scheduling her next appointment, and leaving the office. She's on the street and walking towards Castle's loft before she consciously recognizes that auto-pilot has taken her this far. Walking to the loft is pushing it – it's a long walk, and she has a frustrating, pending case. But she wants to talk to Castle about the case, show him the file in her purse, and she needs time to think about some of the issues that came up in her session before she faces him. So, a long walk it is.

More so than from previous sessions, she left Burke's office with a number of confusing questions. And more so than usual, these questions go beyond the professional and into the personal. The thought that Gates was following someone's orders at the press conference is tantalizing but daunting. That's a topic that she'll need to tease thoroughly in the hopes of understanding the motivations that led to Castle's situation.

Being honest with herself, though, she admits that the questions that take precedence in her mind are those relating to her personal relationship with Castle. She's still troubled by the imbalance there, that his efforts in other areas might be a prompt to see if she is willing to address the personal issues between them, and that her future opportunities with him might not be as unlimited as she's assumed. It's a troubling stew of emotional issues, hopes, and fears. She hopes that just letting the questions run around in her mind has some value, since she has no answers by the time she makes the turn off of Broome and into Castle's building.

After a brief elevator ride, she finds herself back at the door she last faced eight days ago, leading to the conversation that went so well with Castle. Perhaps it's the start of a streak, she thinks optimistically.

* * *

**A/N2: The reviews and PMs are quite divided (and often strident) about Castle's personality in this story. I'm content with that division, and with Castle's decisions and behavior here. Castle is a better person than am I, which might explain why I find it difficult to believe that he would be as forgiving and deferential as he's often portrayed. But I find it difficult to accept that an ordinary person, much less an accomplished author and celebrity, would demonstrate those characteristics to the point of becoming so submissive. And even if Castle would be sufficiently willing to sublimate his own contributions and abilities, it strains the imagination to believe that such an imbalance could persist in a satisfying mature, stable relationship. Yes, he's divorced twice, and maybe this was a contributing factor, but I'd prefer to believe that his intelligence would prompt him to learn from his mistakes.**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

.

_After a brief elevator ride, she finds herself back at the door she last faced eight days ago, leading to the conversation that went so well with Castle. Perhaps it's the start of a streak, she thinks optimistically._

* * *

**Thursday afternoon**

She wonders if those hopes are dashed immediately when it is Alexis, not Castle, who opens the door.

"Detective Beckett," Alexis says in a tone of voice that makes Beckett wary.

"Hi Alexis," Beckett says with false cheer. "I was hoping that I could speak with your dad. Is he around?"

"No," says Alexis, who remains standing in the doorway with the door ajar, not stepping into the hallway but not leaving enough room for Kate to step inside. Knowing Alexis' manners and upbringing, Beckett understands that she is being intentionally blocked from the loft. "He's not back from DC yet."

Thinking about Alexis' intent to screen her from the loft, Beckett's caught off guard by Castle's whereabouts. "He's still in DC? I thought he was coming back with you on Sunday."

"That was the plan," Alexis says, still in the same stilted tone of voice. "But he needed to stay. He went down to Quantico after he dropped me at National Airport on Sunday afternoon."

Beckett's very curious about what Castle is up to, but wary of antagonizing Alexis in her current mood. She decides to go for the minimum information necessary, then retreat until she can talk with Castle and figure out what's going on with Alexis.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Beckett asks.

Alexis simply stares at Beckett, seeming to think about whether to answer this question for too long. Finally, just as Beckett is about to apologize for the interruption and depart, Alexis decides to cooperate. "He's on the first shuttle flight tomorrow morning. He'll land at LaGuardia around 7:30."

"Thank you, Alexis," Beckett says, ensuring that her tone conveys her gratitude. "I'd like to pick him up at the airport, unless you have plans to do it?"

Following another pause, Alexis simply says "I'm sure he'd like that. Goodbye, Detective Beckett." And with that Alexis steps back and closes the door, leaving Beckett standing in the hall.

* * *

After securing her sidearm in her trunk and making her way through security, Beckett thanks her badge for the ability to get all the way to the gate, harkening back to a pre-911 time before TSA became such an obvious presence at airports. She ponders Alexis' reaction to her on the way to Castle's arrival gate. Thinking back to the joyous dinner after the bank bombing, Beckett realizes that Alexis wasn't as boisterous as the rest of them. At the time, Beckett thought that it was Alexis's concerns with her boyfriend Ashley that dampened her mood, but maybe it was more than that.

In fact, Beckett can't recall the last time she spent much time alone with Alexis, in person or on the phone. As she leans against a pillar and watches Castle's plane approach the gate, Beckett realizes anew that Rick isn't the only Castle who has been affected by events and behaviors of the last several months.

As a harried attendant opens the door to the jetway, Beckett refocuses her attention to ensure that she catches Castle as he disembarks. She's assuming that he flew first class, or at least in the front half of the plane; it would be bad luck if he was at the rear of the plane and opted to exit via the tarmac, as the shuttle flights often allow.

Any satisfaction she might have felt for predicting Castle's seating preferences, though, are wiped from her mind as she takes in the fourth passenger through the door. FBI Agent Danielle Britton strides through the doorway holding a radiantly pink cardboard box in one hand and pulling a black roller board bag with the other. Tall and athletic, Britton's hair falls to her shoulders, not tied back as usual. Castle follows behind, a satchel strap over his shoulder while one hand holds his blazer and the other tugs his roller board. After clearing the door, Britton had paused so that Castle could pull even with her for the walk through the airport.

Beckett watches Britton turn to engage Castle, but he's noticed Beckett out of the corner of his eye. The flare of what Beckett grudgingly admits is jealousy is tempered somewhat by the bloom of a smile on Castle's face as he locks eyes with her. Altering his course to head toward Beckett, Castle leaves Britton no choice but to follow.

"You're not here to arrest me again, are you Beckett?" Castle says with a grin.

"Depends, Castle. What have you been up to?" Beckett says. Her voice is low and slightly intimate, which she should feel petty about using in front of Britton, but she just can't help herself.

"The horse was running away, officer," Castle says. "I thought it was my civic duty to assist, despite having just been relieved of all my worldly possessions. You don't want to discourage civilian assistance to law enforcement, do you?"

"All these years and that's the best story you can come up with, Mr. World-Famous Author?" Beckett laughs.

"You don't mess with the classics, Beckett," Castle shoots in reply. "It worked well enough the first time."

"Agent Britton, good to see you again," Beckett says while offering her hand to the agent, finally acknowledging her presence.

Britton hands the pink box to Castle and shakes hands with Beckett. Then, perhaps in answer Beckett's territory-marking inside joke with Castle, Britton takes Castle's hand and says. "It's been fun, Castle. See you soon."

"See you, Dani," Castle says in response. Britton starts to depart, but doesn't immediately release Castle's hand, so that their arms extend slightly before contact is broken. Beckett doesn't fail to recognize the return volley.

"Hey, Beckett, will you hold this?" Castle says while extending the pink box. Beckett takes it grudgingly and watches Castle shrug into his blazer now that his hands are free. Once he's got himself situated, she extends the box back to him.

"Actually, that's for you, if you just want to hold onto it," Castle says.

"What is it, Castle?" Beckett responds.

"Cupcakes. From DC Cupcakes – delicious. Way better than bear claws," Castle says with an eyebrow wiggle.

"I think Britton intends her cupcakes just for you, Castle," Beckett returns tartly.

"They're my cupcakes," Castle says with a smirk. "I just had my hands full and was having trouble carrying them when she offered to help. I'd say that my cupcakes are just for you, but I actually meant them for the whole team, and that would just sound weird."

Rolling her eyes, she's still pleased. Britton is gone, Castle's bantering with her, and she's carrying a box that probably contains twenty thousand calories. Only one thing missing…

"Hey Beckett, can we stop for coffee? I need some caffeine. My treat," he says.

After they amble over to the café counter three gates away, Castle says "Let me get the coffee while you inspect the cupcake options. I got twelve different kinds, no duplicates, so make sure you get your favorites before Ryan and Espo inhale whatever's left."

Beckett skipped breakfast in her effort to get to the airport, so she takes his advice and opens the box, which turns out to be a clever carrying case for individually made and decorated cupcakes. Opting for a chocolate and salted caramel concoction, she's moaning in indecent delight as she watches Castle take their drinks to the side table where the lids, stirrers, and creamers are kept. She smiles faintly as she watches him fuss over their drinks. While she watches, though, she notices the slight sag in his posture, a slight lag in his movements. He looks exhausted and sore. She wonders if Britton is responsible for this, but banishes the thought as Castle approaches with their cups.

Castle hands her drink to her with some ceremony and says "Sorry it took so long, I wanted to make sure I got it right" as he nods to her drink. Pulling her eyes away from him and glancing at her cup, she gives a small start as she notices writing on the lid. Trying to look as casual as possible, Beckett tips her head back and takes a drink. As she lowers the cup she tries to read his small, neat writing: **They're listening. Gentle topics only. Car not safe.**

"Missed me so much you needed to meet me at the airport, Beckett?" Castle says in an obvious attempt to get them bantering about trivialities. She's thrown by his note but professional, so she plays along. They'll figure out a way to have a real conversation when it's safe.

"Short straw, Castle," she explains.

"It's so nice to be missed," he grouses while taking a long gulp of coffee.

"Actually, Castle, I'm not here. I'm a figment of your overactive imagination," Beckett starts, deciding to risk that whoever is listening to them isn't interested in their banter. "After all, if I were here, I might have some uncomfortable questions to answer back at the precinct. So, clearly, I'm not here."

"Clearly not," Castle says with a smirk.

"But, speaking purely as a figment, I've got to say that this setting is very mild. I would have expected to be pulled into something a little more … exotic." Beckett says with a smile that blooms into a laugh as Castle does a spit-take with his coffee.

"Not fair, Beckett. This was your call, not mine. Trust that my scenarios would be _highly imaginative_," he says as he wipes his chin.

"They'd have to be, if I was there," she returns with a laugh and a wink.

Still chuckling, Beckett leads Castle through the parking lot to her cruiser. They stow his luggage in the trunk, retrieve her service weapon, and pile into the car. Castle taps quietly on a tablet computer that he'd pulled from his satchel and then angles the device toward Beckett: **Everything okay?**

Beckett nods while starting the car, then reaches for the tablet. Tapping quickly, she hands the tablet back (**Any ideas? We could use a lead**) with the Menendez case file that she pulled from her purse.

"You know, Beckett, they drove me hard down at Quantico. Would you mind if I rested my eyes on the drive into town?" Castle says while opening the file and starting to read.

"No problem, Castle," she replies, going along with the ruse. While he reviews the case file, she lets herself start breaking down the question of who might put them under surveillance. The press, perhaps, but they're not typically surreptitious. Perhaps someone from the precinct, maybe IA, if this is about interacting with Castle during his 'suspension,' but that seems unlikely (and a poor use of resources) despite Gates' background. There is a long list of criminals with an axe to grind against the two the them, but "they're listening" sounds like an organized group more than a disgruntled con. The Feds? Castle just came from there, and they are organized and numerous, but why would they care to tail Castle, especially as he's just spent a week with them?

Beckett's slightly proud of herself that it's only now that she's wondering if this is Castle's imagination. It's not one of his jokes – he would have pulled a reveal by now. Instead, he's sitting next to her, focused on gaining command of the material they've assembled for Abe Menendez's murder. It might be that Castle's imagination is running wild, but that seems as implausible as her other options. And, excepting Jerry Tyson and ex-wives, Castle's never shown much of a paranoid streak, despite his talk of conspiracies.

Beckett's pulled back from her ruminations by Castle's quiet tapping on the tablet. He turns in his seat to hold the tablet close to her so that she can read the massive font easily. **Have you identified who LDS is in his calendar?** Below this question, Castle had typed **Yes**,** No**, and **Maybe**, so that Beckett could answer his question nonverbally by pointing to the right answer. Careful to mind the road, she lets her finger land on **No **while shaking her head.

**Is he Mormon?** Is the next question, thinking that LDS might refer to Latter Day Saints. Beckett points to **No** again, but shrugs to suggest that people may harbor beliefs that aren't clearly observable to others. It's always possible that he was curious about exploring that faith, or meeting with people to learn more.

Castle starts tapping again, but pauses. He starts and stops again, looking a bit pensive and a bit troubled. Finally deciding to finish his question, he holds up the tablet again. **Do you know about the Lenton &amp; Deveraux Society?**

No pointing is necessary this time as her look of confusion and head shake suffice to convey her answer. Castle nods and puts the tablet down, switching to his cell phone. When Beckett looks over, it appears that Castle is scrolling through his contacts. For a guy he knows, surely.

They're into Manhattan and nearing Castle's loft before Castle shifts around and sounds out an exaggerated yawn. We're ready to broadcast again, Beckett guesses.

"Look at that timing," Castle says with a satisfied voice, "I even wake up well. Thanks for the power nap, Beckett. Do you have time to stop so that I can give you those books I owe you," he says while looking at her and nodding vigorously as a hint, "or do you need to get right to the precinct?"

"Ordinarily I'd just slow the car and make you jump out, Castle," she says with a smile as she hams it up for anyone listening, "but you brought me cupcakes. So, a quick stop seems reasonable."

Nodding thankfully Castle settles back until Beckett is parallel parking a block from the loft. After retrieving his bags from the trunk, they make their way toward his building. Beckett's surprised, though, when he gently clasps her elbow and guides her around the corner and down the ramp into the parking garage rather than to the front door. Walking through the garage, they pass the elevator bay and instead approach a utilitarian metal door in the cinderblock wall. Castle pulls out his keys and unlocks the door.

Beckett is assaulted by pounding industrial noise as they enter what must be the building's environmental engineering room. Castle guides her to a back corner of the room where the noise is slightly reduced and pulls out his phone. Satisfied that there is no signal, he points to the "searching" text where bars should be and points to Beckett's phone, asking her to check for a signal. Nothing for her, either.

Castle steps directly up to Beckett, but slightly off-center so that when he bends slightly his mouth is just inches from her ear. Her curiosity is overpowering, but Beckett admits to a low thrill of excitement at his proximity and the intimate form of address.

"We shouldn't linger here," Castle says. "For a few minutes, anyone would assume we're cavorting, but anything longer than that might raise eyebrows. Three things. First, I need you to assume that you're wired – your person, your desk, your car, your apartment. I'm going to spend the day getting some equipment for us. Bring the boys in the loop on this, they might be in the frame, too." Even with her faith in Castle, this is starting to sound a little too fantastic to believe, but she owes him this. She'll go along until there's a reason to doubt. She wonders if Esposito will be so accommodating.

"Second, come upstairs with me. I've got some safe phones locked away. We can text about your case, talk when you're someplace where you're not likely to be overheard. I think I know a next step, but it'll be tricky. Don't do _anything_ with Lenton &amp; Deveraux until you hear from me. Let me make some calls and I'll get back to you by lunch," Castle says.

"Third, I need to see you and the boys tonight, about all this. I want to spend time with Alexis after neglecting her this week. We're having dinner, but she's celebrating the end of midterms with friends tonight. Let's meet at the Haunt at 9:00?" With this, Castle turns his head and pulls back. As he does so, his nose brushes the shell of her ear and Beckett closes her eyes at the sensation. When she opens them again, Castle is staring at her with eyebrows raised, waiting for a response.

It's been just a handful of hours since her talk with Burke, but she's been thinking about what they discussed intensely since then. In that frame of mind, Castle's questioning look is obvious: he's wondering if she'll follow his lead. Though she has reservations, though she wants to challenge the whole cloak and dagger aspect of this encounter, she is going to show Castle her trust.

So, without a smirk or a flirty smile, Beckett simply looks at Castle and gives him a single, distinct nod to signal her acceptance, one colleague to another. Receiving a similar nod in return, they turn in unison and head toward the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

_So, without a smirk or a flirty smile, Beckett simply looks at Castle and gives him a single, distinct nod to signal her acceptance, one colleague to another. Receiving a similar nod in return, they turn in unison and head toward the door._

_._

* * *

**Friday Morning**

They are awaiting the elevator to head up to Castle's floor when Beckett broaches a sensitive topic that she thinks wouldn't be of interest to any likely listeners.

"Castle, can I ask you about Alexis?" she ventures, watching him closely for a reaction. He looks surprised, but nods.

"I stopped by last night to see you and she was … she wasn't very happy to see me," she ventures.

Castle sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "She's just trying to work through some things," Castle starts. "Beckett, you should understand something. Actually, that's wrong. I think that you might be the only one who understands this. Alexis is the single best thing I've done in my life. She's better than me in every way. Every way." Castle smiles as he thinks of his daughter.

"My flaws – obvious and glaring – are tempered or missing in her," he continues as they board the elevator. "I have a tendency of being too forgiving, too eager for acceptance to stand up for myself. Not so for Alexis. She's watched me with Meredith and she's watched me with Gina. She holds them accountable where I haven't, where I've set myself up to repeat my mistakes and get hurt again. And now she's watched me with you. Watched me come back after being disavowed for three months. I'm right back in the same place I was a year ago. I've let it go, but she hasn't."

Beckett looks down while the elevator car moves up. Another casualty of her tendency to run, another person wronged. The weight of her apologies bears down on her, frightens her. How easy it would be to run again, to avoid the effort that making amends will require. But isn't this what Burke talked about – how seductive it is to think that the slate can be wiped clean by walking away, only to find that you've taken your problems with you?

And Castle – dependable, forgiving Castle – is facing the same issue, but apparently doing so more bravely and directly. He's putting in the effort to change his life. Shouldn't she?

"Castle," she starts, as the elevator comes to a halt on his floor. They step off, but her hand on his arm halts his progress towards his door. She wants to get this out before they enter the loft, where Martha or any other of a number of distractions might derail her. "Rick, you're not where you were a year ago, neither am I, neither are we. We're both working to be better. I'm getting help and I think it's making me better. I hope you can see that?"

"I think I can," Castle replies while looking at her. "And I think Alexis saw a little bit of it, too. She 'accidentally overheard' you when you stopped by the night of the press conference. What she heard didn't fit with her view of you. So, she's trying to figure out how to feel about you right now."

Then, as he resumes walking towards his door, Castle turns and gives her an intense look. Maybe its paranoia on her part, but Beckett can almost imagine him saying 'Honestly, so am I.'

* * *

**We're clear**. Beckett texts on her burner phone nearly two hours later, while Ryan and Esposito clear some space. They're in the eaves of the precinct building, in a storage room on the top floor with low ceilings and vents rather than windows. It's a purgatory for broken furniture and outdated equipment, a place to rest until the well-intentioned thoughts for repair and donation are abandoned in a need to make more room, when it's all summarily thrown out. The room is about two-thirds full, meaning that they could likely use it for weeks without worrying about space constraints or being discovered.

As they huddle around a three-legged table perched on whatever furniture shards they could assemble, the phone rings and Beckett answers on conference mode. Castle's voice sounds tinny and distorted on the burner phone, but it'll do for now.

"Everyone there?" Castle asks.

"Present and accounted for, sir! Perimeter secure and countermeasures in place, sir!" Esposito barks out good naturedly. Though he huffed about the clandestine nature of the meeting, he seems to be enjoying himself almost as much as Ryan.

"Sorry for the theatrics, Espo," Castle says with a chuckle. "But I'm still on the blacklist and we don't need you three tarnished. Besides, the subterfuge is more for the project we'll discuss tonight than this case, but better safe than sorry. Can you all meet at the Haunt at 9:00?"

After a round of affirmatives, Castle resumes talking. "Okay, then let's get moving. I've got a lot to do before we meet tonight. So, let me tell you about LDS – the Lenton &amp; Deveraux Society. Ryan, Espo, have you heard of it?"

"No, never heard of it. Should we look into it? Beckett didn't mention anything about it," Ryan says while cutting a look at Beckett. Keeping her face blank, Beckett's actually happy about Ryan's comment – it's one more small proof that she can follow her partner's lead and extend a little trust.

"_Don't _look into it. Not _at all_. If they see you coming, you'll never get anywhere," Castle starts.

"This a law firm?" Esposito asks.

"No, it's a private social club. An exclusive, off-the books haven for 'gentlemen of means,'" Castle says. He's trying to inflect his voice to sound snobbish, but his efforts are largely defeated by the burner phone's cheap speaker. "A society housed in a private building about a half-block from where you found the unfortunate Mr. Menendez."

"Are you a member?" Beckett asks, curious.

Castle barks a short laugh. "Beckett, look at me, look at my life. What would possibly make you think that I'd prefer to spend my time socializing only with men?"

"A reprieve, maybe?" Beckett smiles. "Besides, Castle, I'm not naïve. I've worked Vice. I have a vague inkling that just because women are not members doesn't mean that they are uninvolved in the 'entertainment.'"

"I suppose, but it's still not really my thing," Castle says dismissively. "But, even if it were, I'd never get in. If I maintain my success, if Alexis matches it and marries well, then any grandsons of mine would be eligible for membership, as if I'd want that for them. You need a three-generation resume, minimum, to get into the Society."

Beckett appreciates the challenge for their case even before Castle describes it. "If the LDS in your vic's calendar referred to the Society, you're in trouble. You have no possibility of a warrant, and at least a couple of the judges you might approach will be members. There's no shortage of attorneys on the rolls, either, so you're not going to bully your way in."

"Can you get us in, Castle?" Ryan asks in a hopeful voice. "Maybe ask some questions?"

"No way. You don't ask about the Society, Ryan. The Society asks about you." Castle says melodramatically with an odd note of finality.

"How do we follow this lead, then?" Esposito asks, but Beckett interjects before Castle can answer.

"Let me guess, Castle," she says. "We treat it like an organized crime case. We find a weak link and we turn him."

"It's like we don't even need to talk anymore," Castle chuckles over the line. "Beckett's exactly right. I know some guys in the Society, but I won't ask them to get us in, and they wouldn't cooperate if I did. But, I do know a guy who can put the screws to a distressed member and get us a meeting. It's set for Monday morning at 11:30 at DeMania's near the Park. Table for three, in Ryan's name."

"Three?" Beckett asks, "what's going on, Castle?"

"Espo and Ryan will meet with George Thresh, a member of the club who has found it difficult to live up to the family mettle. I've only met Thresh a few times in passing, and he is a thoroughly unlikeable, wretched person. Even in my limited time with him, he seems like someone with a near-pathological need for dominance, superiority. It speaks well for the Society that he's on the outs."

"This doesn't explain why it's not reservations for four," Beckett reminds him testily.

"Beckett, you can't be a part of the interview," Castle says, apologetically. "Thresh is kinked. I don't know exactly what his issue or sexual hang-up is, but he doesn't interact well with women in general, and a gorgeous woman in a position of authority is going to either make him clam up or bail out."

"Castle, he's hardly the first pig I'll have encountered on the job or in my life," Beckett objects.

"I'm sure he's not, but we're supplicants for information here and can't afford to unduly antagonize Thresh. Look, on behalf of those with Y chromosomes, I apologize on behalf of my gender for him and men like him. But it's not like Ryan or Espo are going to have a good time with this. Think of Thresh as a hostile witness – he was maneuvered into this interview and he owes me nothing directly. On top of his other personality defects, his pride is injured and he'll be looking to lash out," Castle says.

"He'll be working overtime to score points on you guys. It's not likely to be fun, but your best chance of getting him to talk will be to take your hits with a smile. Espo, he'll probably make a crack about your sexuality, imply that you're gay," Castle predicts.

"What?" Esposito huffs.

"I said he was a jerk, not that he was imaginative. He'll see you – a strong Latino with pretty obvious military training – and figure that you'd be offended by shots at your sexuality," Castle explains. "Ryan, he'll probably make nasty insinuations about Jenny, if you wear your ring. Otherwise, he'll probably just go after your sexuality too, based on your usual natty appearance."

"This is starting to sound like a real blast," Ryan muttered, toying with the ring on his finger.

"Yeah, it'll be one for the diary, that's for sure," Castle's voice crackles over the phone. "But that brings up a few other conditions of the interview. First, no references to being detectives. The cover for the meeting is that you're managers at Thresh's investment house. So, he'll probably try to pose at roughing you up for bumbling your accounts or something. Second, no recording. This condition I simply pass along and note that being discovered recording would immediately end the interview, but I leave the decision to you. Third, you've got one hour and we have to cover the tab. I've taken care of the tab, but you'll need to watch the clock, because I suspect Thresh will be looking to bolt as soon as he can."

"So, we get an unpleasant lunch with a wretched deviant who has a pathological need for dominance, and you get to sit on the beach while 'writing'? Are we being pranked?" Ryan asks.

"The world is rife with inequity, Kevin," Castle chuckles as he fires back.

"Two last bits of advice, then I need to run. And this is your turf, not mine, so I offer these only as suggestions," Castle says. "First, dig up whatever you can on Thresh, but be wary about whether you use it with him. If we don't get what you need from him, I'm not confident that I can find another way into the Society," Castle confesses.

"Second," Castle continues, "think about the big thing you want to get from Thresh, the single point to which you'd build in a normal interrogation. With that in mind, structure your discussion so that what you want to get seems like extraneous information on the way to something else. If Thresh figures out the information that's most interesting to you, he'll probably withhold it. Give him something else, something worthless to lord over you, so he can feel like he won his little battle with the police."

"If it all goes to hell and he won't talk or is just there to jerk you around, mention the name Jennings. That will either push him in line or end the interview," Castle concludes.

"Who is Jennings?" Beckett asks.

"A friend. Someone who is repaying a kindness by setting this up," Castle says quickly. "My time's up – I've got to go. I'll see you this evening." With that, the connection cuts off abruptly.

"He's up to something," Esposito says wonderingly.

"Definitely," Beckett replies. "I guess we'll get the big reveal tonight."

* * *

Telling Gates only that they had a new potential lead on the Menendez case, the team spent the afternoon preparing for Monday's encounter with Thresh and trying to get a little background on the man himself. It looks like Castle's gut reaction might be well-founded, if the string of complaints lodged against Thresh or his propensity to turn up in police reports (which never seemed to lead to subsequent charges or investigations) is any indication. After spending some time charting out a conversational path for Ryan and Esposito to follow on Monday, they all departed around 5:00, with at least Beckett anxious to hear Castle's explanation for the slinking around.

Knowing that Castle needs time with Alexis keeps Beckett from turning up at the loft before the 9:00 meeting at the Old Haunt. She's not fearful of Alexis. Beckett knows that her relationship with Castle's daughter is strained and that it won't be fixed overnight. But, she's decided that making amends has to start somewhere, and her focus, whatever isn't commanded by work, needs to be on Castle. All else is secondary. Besides, if she builds her comfort level with Castle, that alone might provide Alexis with some solace. And given what poor Castle's suffered through lately, Beckett suspects that some private time with his daughter will do them both good.

All that said, she's still anxious and jangled, finally giving up on patience and heading to Castle's bar more than an hour early. The head bartender somehow notices her as she walks into the Haunt, despite the throng of patrons lined up before him. With a tilt of his head he directs Beckett's attention to a raucous crowd surrounding the upright piano against the near wall in the far room. Through the boisterous crowd, in gaps between bodies and shoulders, she can just make out Castle's outline, seated at the stool in front of the piano.

"Do 'Great Balls of Fire!'" a young woman shouts out, clinging to her friend. With a brief, gentle lead in, the piano suddenly erupts in sound as Castle's fingers convey vibrant energy through the keys. While he sings, so does the group around him. There is laughter and smiles, ribbing of those who only mouth the words or botch the lyrics. Castle winds the song down about half-way through after the communal singing collapses in a joyful, laughing mess. Even Castle chuckles as he lets his hands linger on the last chords.

"What's next?" Castle calls out, provoking a host of suggestions. While he pauses to consider, he signals to a waitress, who brings a tray of drinks and passes them out to those around the piano. For Castle, the waitress places a small tumbler of clear liquid, ice, and a lime wedge atop a coaster on the piano, next to an identical drink. Before she can leave, Castle picks up the old drink, knocks it back in one motion, and places his now-empty tumbler on the tray while giving a shudder.

"How about this one?" He says as his fingers resume their dance on the keyboard. "'Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots, and ruined your black-tie affair'…" Castle begins to sing.

The crowd loves this selection and lustily joins in when Castle hits the chorus of "Friends in Low Places." Beckett is bemused, watching her partner work the crowd with a country song. Who would have thought? And yet he looks perfectly at ease, the master of ceremonies for a bubbling group of patrons. It's a balm, this party, and Beckett soaks in the bonhomie while listening to Castle's singing and playing.

It's an impressive range of songs that follow. Beckett recognizes most of the songs and is surprised how well the crowd follows along. Despite what looks like desperately tricky finger work, Castle somehow makes Aerosmith's version of "Walk This Way" work on the piano. His rendition of "Love Me or Leave Me" casts Beckett back to her childhood, remembering how much her parents had loved the Nina Simone version of the classic and would dance to it in the kitchen. She had forgotten this memory, until the opening piano line suddenly brought it all back.

"He's going to be too hammered to tell us anything," Beckett hears as she feels a nudge on her elbow as their meeting time approaches. Taking the glass of water that Ryan brought to her, she simply nods.

"He does put on quite a show," Beckett notes with a smile. "Espo here yet?"

"He's close enough to park, should be here in a few," Ryan replies while pocketing his cell phone.

As Esposito approaches a few minutes later, Beckett tries to decide whether to interrupt Castle or to soak in the good cheer for a bit longer. Her thoughts are broken when Castle looks at her through the crowd and gives a nod. That sneak, she thinks, he's known we were here listening.

"Last song," Castle calls to the crowd, eliciting boos and protests. It takes a moment for the crowd to pick up on the song, but they join in to "Cold, Cold Heart." It's a slower song, maybe an odd choice to end on, Beckett thinks, until she starts listening to the lyrics. It's the third line that makes it click, and she wishes that were not the case. She's vaguely familiar with this song, enough to know that it's talking about a different kind of relationship. But with her history, it means something else, and having Castle sing it drives home the point that maybe he sees the parallel. It's an emotional song ordinarily, and this rendition is knifing into her soul. She tries to pull herself back, but she can't quite manage to stop listening.

Castle finally strikes the last chord on the piano and starts to rise, telling the disappointed patrons that the "real" piano player starts up in a few minutes at 9:00. Castle withdraws a satchel from beneath the piano bench and takes his blazer from where it had been discarded atop the upright. As he turns to head over to the team, the waitress shows up again, carrying a tray laden with clean glasses, an ice bucket, and a bottle of whiskey.

"Thanks Carrie," Castle lights up while taking the tray, giving the waitress a wide smile that she returns happily. He weaves through the crowd to reach them, wobbling slightly. Beckett wonders how much Castle's already knocked back and how they'll get anything done tonight if they open that bottle.

"My friends!" Castle nearly shouts enthusiastically. "Time to celebrate!" Castle starts to throw his arm around Ryan's shoulder, but stops in confusion when he realizes that both of his hands are full. Shaking himself, he instead says "Right this way," as he makes his way to the stairwell to his office, still weaving even though there are no longer any patrons in his path. After nearly stumbling on the steps, it takes him a few tries to slot the key into the door handle after hanging his satchel, with blazer atop, from his shoulder. When he finally succeeds, he nearly falls through the door, but catches himself on the frame and disguises his stumble as an effort to hold the door open for his friends.

Esposito and Ryan cast each other uneasy looks as they enter Castle's office. Beckett is the last one through. She tries to take the tray from Castle, but he shakes his head and pulls it out of reach. Sighing, Beckett makes her way to an overstuffed leather chair and perches on the edge of the cushion, wondering if she'll need to jump up suddenly to catch Castle or his tray.

But as soon as he closes and locks the door, Castle's demeanor changes entirely. His posture returns to normal and he rights himself as he strides to the desk and places the tray atop it. Putting his finger to his lips to motion for silence, he clicks on a stereo that fills the room with a low bossa nova beat.

Castle crooks a finger at Beckett as he reaches into his satchel and withdraws a metal device that looks like the wand-shaped metal detector used by airline security. He floats the wand around Beckett, while the boys look on with raised eyebrows. Those eyebrows climb higher as Castle puts the wand on the desk and, kneeling next to Beckett, he pushes her right foot backwards so that it extends up in the air behind her. Working carefully at the clasp of her boot, Castle stands and places a small metallic disk, smaller than a dime, on the desk and again takes up the wand. His next stop is under the left lapel of her jacket, which produces a small chip.

Castle hands her the wand and motions for her to repeat the process on him, which turns up a chip in the pocket of his blazer. Ryan checks out clean, as do Esposito and Castle's satchel.

Collectively chagrined by this apparent confirmation of Castle's security concerns, the detectives watch in silence as Castle reaches underneath the desk. A small click is barely heard over the sound of the music, after which the desk slides forward. Beneath its previous footprint is a trap door that Castle lifts, revealing an ancient combination safe, probably left over from the original owner. He spins the dial for a few moments, then stands after wrenching back the heavy lid. He extracts a small metal box, which he opens and into which he sweeps the chips and disk from the desktop. Securing the lid, he returns the box, closes the safe, and trips something beneath the desk that causes it to slide back into place.

Castle turns to them, takes his cell phone out, and shows it to them while he powers it down. After motioning them to do the same, he pulls another metal box from his satchel. Placing his phone in the box, he holds it in front of each of the others. The box goes back in the satchel as soon as it's secured.

Slinging his satchel strap over his shoulder, Castle gives a large arm motion to indicate that they should follow him as he strides towards the wall. Handing them flashlights from a cabinet, he opens the hidden door that opens into the tunnel system that they found on the case that preceded Castle's purchase of the bar. After wending through some decrepit tunnels, the team finally turns into what appears to be a dead end. Instead, there is a ladder cleverly worked into the wall, which Castle climbs. Beckett hears the rasping of metal as Castle undoes a lock or a latch, then hears a metal hinge creak before Castle climbs out of view. The team climbs up and out, ending up in an alley as Castle helps pull them up and the secures the door through which they passed.

"Almost there," Castle says as he starts walking toward the mouth of the alley. As they emerge onto the avenue, Beckett sees a black SUV that's been waiting for them. They pile in and the driver moves off without a word from Castle. They pull into the parking garage of an office building within five minutes. Castle again takes the lead, producing an electronic fob that opens the door to the elevator bank and activates the elevator. Emerging on the 22nd floor, the fob also provides entry to a nondescript office, through which Castle guides them before finally ending in a high-tech looking conference room. After he pushes a few buttons on the console at the front of the room, there are clicks and a hiss.

"Welcome to the offices of Connelly &amp; Walcroft, a law firm where a friend of mine works. We're in a secure room, hardened against surveillance. We're safe, finally, to speak freely," Castle says as he opens his satchel and withdraws three manila envelopes.

"What's this all about, Castle? I was ready to rip you for playing spy, but then you pulled out the wand and found that stuff. Is this about the Cartwright case?" Esposito asks and everyone sits around the conference table.

"No," Castle says as he takes a seat at the table. "It's about who killed Beckett's mom, who tried to kill Beckett."

There's dead silence in the room while the detectives process Castle's statement. Beckett is suddenly breathing hard, feeling a phantom twinge on her chest where the bullet entered. She's getting better, but she's not sure she's up for this now. She's healed, but she needs to be strong, needs to be ready to push this to the end, to deliver justice to the bastard who stole her mother's life and nearly stole hers.

"Why now?" Beckett nearly whispers.

Castle gives her a sympathetic look and answers quietly, "Because I think I know who he is."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: At the bottom.

.

_"Why now?" Beckett nearly whispers._

_Castle gives her a sympathetic look and answers quietly, "Because I think I know who he is."_

* * *

**Friday ~ 10:30 PM**

It's not until she feels a hand on her shoulder that she realizes that Castle moved. With his other hand, he's putting a bottle of water in front of her and waiting patiently for any kind of reaction. When she slowly swivels her face towards him and looks him in the eye, he gives her shoulder a squeeze and retreats to his chair on the other side of the table, giving her space and time to wrestle with her thoughts.

But she doesn't want to think. She wants to know what he's found, wants to know the name of her demon.

"Tell me," Beckett croaks. After sipping at the water, she says in a stronger voice "Tell me everything."

"I'm not sure it's him, but I think it is. I'd like to build my case, see if you three agree with my assumptions. Because if I'm right, we're in deep trouble." Castle says with a sigh. "Is that okay?" he asks, looking at Beckett.

At her nod, he starts his explanation. "This all starts back in my first year, when I was arrogant and stupid enough to poke into your mother's file. You wouldn't have been shot had I not done that, and I've never had the courage to apologize properly. Beckett, I need to start by telling you how sorry I am that I did that. I pulled the trigger and fired the bullet that took years to find you," Castle says in a low voice.

Beckett can't speak. What he says is ridiculous, she knows, but she can't deny that the thought had flitted through her mind in her months of recuperation. She's tearing up and doesn't trust her voice, so she merely nods and encourages Castle to continue.

"That arrogance is something that will become a theme as I lay out my story, my confession," he says, and all three detectives give him a hard look at that last word. "So, let's get the worst of it out of the way. I cut a deal for your life, Beckett, after you were shot. There is a paper shield between you and your enemy, and it remains in place only so long as I can keep you from investigating your mother's case."

Despite the number of times she's heard it from perps in the box, Beckett has never believed in "seeing red," being so emotionally furious that nothing pierces the fog but the target of anger and the means by which to strike at it. But she is there now, hearing nothing, seeing nothing but Castle, her focus one of terrible betrayal and rage.

When she finally registers a voice, it's not Castle's. "Just relax, Kate," she hears in a soothing tone from Ryan. She hadn't noticed him or Espo leave their seats. They are both in ready position, legs apart and hands hovering over undrawn sidearms, trying to soothe her. Why?

At this point she realizes that she is standing and that her weapon is in her hand, dangling at her side. For his part, Castle merely looks up at her from his seat, nothing showing on his face but calm acceptance and a hint of something else, perhaps pity or shame.

This standoff continues for a few moments that feel like hours.

Finally, Beckett lowers herself into her chair. She is beyond words, beyond prompting this damned writer and his need to tell stories. She doesn't return her weapon to its holster, instead laying it on the conference table between her hands. Let him tell his story now.

"I wasn't the first person to make this deal," Castle says in a low voice. He is not shifting, not doing anything to shy away from Beckett's gun. "Roy was. He had incriminating documents on the person behind Beckett's mother's murder, maybe more. He sent the documents to a friend who contacted me to explain the deal – the documents stay hidden, Beckett stays off the case, and Beckett lives. If either of the first two conditions fail, so does the agreement to leave Beckett alone. The files were in transit, the new deal not established, on the day of Roy's funeral."

"God damn it," Esposito mutters, while Ryan merely looks on in shocked silence. Beckett is trying not to feel, not to think. She's just going to take it all in, engrave it on the walls of her mind, so she can think about her options later.

"Roy's friend called me after receiving the files. He explained the deal to me, asked me if it was worth your life to keep you from working the case. I made the deal," Castle says.

After a short pause to stare directly at Beckett, Castle continues. "I know you're pissed, Kate. I've known you would be from the moment I made the deal. But you need to understand this: I'm glad I made the deal. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I'd do it every time."

"Without telling me?" Beckett erupts. "This is _my_ life, Castle. My mother! You have no god damned right to sneak around and make deals to insert yourself where you don't belong! My mother, my case, my life, my decision!"

"Bullshit, Beckett," Castle says in a low and dangerous tone. "I've wondered how I'd react if we ever had this conversation, and you know what? Screw my plans, screw my speeches, I'm calling you on your bullshit. Everyone here knows that you would have done EXACTLY the same thing for any of us if the situation was reversed."

Castle's declaration starts a stare-down between he and Beckett. Where Castle has quailed before, for himself or in sympathetic reaction to the target of a Beckett interrogation, he is resolute now.

Without breaking his glare, Castle continues. "And even if you wouldn't do that for us, I STILL would have made the deal. You were a mess after the shooting, Beckett. A fucking mess. How in the hell did you think you'd stand up to a sniper, to a determined assassin? You couldn't, and don't pretend for one god damned minute that I'd believe you could. You needed time, you needed strength, and I was happy to buy that for you, even knowing that you might see it as a betrayal."

Oddly, it's not the words that register with Beckett, but the profanity. Castle is a wordsmith. He prides himself on his articulation and when he rarely pulls out a curse word, it's mostly for a considered purpose. His liberal sprinkling of foul language is a clear signal that he's on the emotional edge.

"I knew you might not forgive me," Castle said while still maintaining eye contact. "So I abused the terms of the deal. While I kept you off of the case, I pursued it myself. I didn't have any luck in identifying Roy's friend. Until recently I hadn't made much progress at all. But every week, I visited my attorney and updated the information from the murderboard at the loft so that you would know what to pursue if I was … unable to continue."

"You damned fool," Beckett fumes, "You fucking hypocrite. I couldn't investigate, but you could?"

"_I_ didn't die twice on the way to the hospital. _I_ didn't go hide in the woods for three months. _I_ couldn't turn the world off and walk away," Castle growls. "There was nothing else I _could_ do."

"Nothing except risk your life, threaten to orphan your daughter?" Beckett bites back.

"Now who's the hypocrite?" Castle returns immediately. "Do you even realize how close your dad was to lapsing while you were away? Do you think so little of yourself that you think that the rest of us wouldn't be crushed by your death? You can just pass me the necklace now and I'll wear it without the bloody mess and burial between owners."

Castle's words are hammering away at her, and Beckett feels this last set hit home almost physically. Her dad seemed fine when he was at the cabin with her, but she doesn't know what happened after his return to the city. Castle knows. He must have been keeping an eye on her dad despite his isolation, something that she herself didn't do. This action alone casts a corrosive layer of guilt over her armor of personal indignation.

And then to mention the necklace with her mom's ring, to make her picture him wearing it if she was cut down while seeking justice for her mother… It makes Beckett realize the sick cyclicality of this tragedy. Johanna wears the ring until she is killed and it goes to Beckett. Beckett wears the ring until she is killed and it goes to Castle. Does it pass to Alexis and on down the line like a curse, blighting the lives of anyone who chose to care for someone linked back to Johanna Beckett? What kind of legacy is that? Certainly not one that would foster pride in her mother, Beckett admits.

Having delivered this last blow, Castle sits in a quiet daze, seemingly out of words. Beckett risks a quick glance at Ryan and Esposito, both of whom sit in stunned silence, looking shocked and embarrassed for intruding on what should be a private quarrel. Each of the four members of the team take the chance to reflect on what's been covered already, to think back on what was and so closely could have been.

After a few moments, it's Castle who breaks the quiet contemplation as he rises and picks up the three manila envelopes that he'd removed from his satchel when they arrived.

"We needed to have this conversation long ago and I'm guilty for having been too cowardly to force the issue before now," Castle says in a conciliatory tone. "Ryan, Espo, I'm sorry that you got drawn into something so uncomfortable." After a brief pause, he continues. "Kate, I'm sorry if I held this back for too long. I didn't want to burden you with it when you were still fighting so hard to recover, but it looks like I should have told you about it sooner."

When Beckett doesn't respond, Castle strengthens his voice and continues. "We're _all_ involved going forward," Castle says as he slides an envelope to each of them. "Because we all want to see justice, because we all lost Roy, because we want Beckett to get justice for her mother. And because I think we're all dead if things go wrong now."

Well, thanks Mr. Sunshine, Beckett thinks to herself while she upturns the envelope to spill its contents onto the table top. Her shock is articulated by Esposito, who is looking at the contents of his own envelope.

"Castle, what the fuck?" Esposito asks it a tone of bewilderment more than anger.

"You did Jenny, too?" Ryan asks, prompting Beckett to explore the pile before her. Two bricks of bills, probably $10,000 each. Two IDs, one with her picture and description, one with her father's, but both with fake names. A slip of paper with an address towards upstate New York. A flash drive.

"Bro, this is serious time right here, just for having these," Esposito says.

"Depends," Castle replies cagily. "I've got, well, not permission, but documentation that would impede prosecution. But don't flash those around. They are for emergencies if this all goes south. Memorize the address – it's a cabin I own that's registered through some corporate accounts. It might be pierced eventually, but it's at least a temporary safe house if we need it. There's a dry well on the property near the house. Exactly 30 yards away from the well on a straight line from the house is a buried shelter with rations, money, and weapons."

Forget the skulking around, the threat of surveillance, the egress through the tunnels under the Haunt, _this_ is what finally makes Beckett look at Castle like he's gone slightly crazy. She's not alone.

"You all think I'm overreacting. That's fine. Let me tell you my theory and then we'll see," Castle says.

When they are all looking at him again, he resumes his explanation, picking up the tone from before the confrontation with Beckett.

"Back when I started, back when I poked into Beckett's mom's case, I was naïve and arrogant. I figured that I knew people and that money could open a lot of doors. Remember the Coonan debacle? There I was, thinking that I could circumvent years of failure by just writing a check," Castle says with disgust.

"So, you'd think I'd have learned, right? Our case with Bob should have given me an opportunity to change, but I didn't," Castle continues, and Beckett's attention ratchets up. What does the attempt to frame the mayor have to do with all of this?

"Mr. Smith – the name that Roy's friend uses – called me, warned me that Bob was being set up. Gates hated me then. Well, I guess she still does. But if Bob went down, there was no way I'd be able to stay at the precinct. If I was gone, then I couldn't hold the deal together and it would unravel. You'd have been in the cross-hairs again," he says quietly while looking at Beckett.

"So that's why you were so desperate to defend Bob – not because of him, but because of me?" Beckett says, thinking back quickly to the arguments they'd had during that investigation.

"It's not binary, Beckett. He's my friend, too, and a good man. A good mayor," Castle says with some pride. "But, I'd be lying if I suggested that keeping my commitment to your safety wasn't my primary ambition."

"Despite the calls, and even our meeting, I still didn't get anywhere on identifying Smith," Castle starts to explain before Esposito blurts out "You met with him?"

Wincing, Castle nods. "It was all very Deep Throat – shadowy parking deck, trench coat, disguised voice. It would have been cool if the stakes weren't so high and I wasn't scared out of my mind."

Castle gives a nervous chuckle before addressing the obvious interjections. "I took all the precautions I thought I could get away with. But, as I say, it was a bad situation. And the case didn't go especially well – we saved Bob the indignity of a trial, but damage was still done. At least it wasn't bad enough to shake me out of the precinct."

"That was the state of play until last week, when everything changed with the Cartwright case," Castle says.

"Don't tell me that has something to do with Beckett's mom's case?" Ryan says. "Was Cartwright involved?"

"No," Castle says, "it wasn't the case itself, but what happened during and after. Let me ask you this: when was the last time the FBI showed up and deferred to your lead?"

"Never," answer Esposito and Ryan together.

"Exactly," Castle says quickly. "And yet we all accepted it. Wilson and Britton were here almost as advisors, observers. On a _kidnapping_ case. Wilson sat back and watched the show. The only time Dani talked to me, it wasn't about the case."

This last comment provokes a smirk from Esposito and a flare of territorialism in Beckett despite her anger at Castle.

"Then, the press conference," Castle says with a sigh. "I get hung out to dry without even a 'hang in there' from Bob. At first, I thought he might be harboring a grudge from our investigation of him. But that was foolish. I'm not going to go into how Bob and I know each other, but I'll say that our friendship is deep enough to withstand that fiasco without breaking."

"The press conference hurt, surprisingly so. But I was run down and emotionally spent. Then, after a good night's sleep, I get hammered again with a bogus suspension after which the FBI calls within minutes. It seemed too coincidental, too synchronized." Castle's excited now, picking up speed. "So, I started thinking about my assumptions and realized I missed it. The biggest damned clue about Beckett's case that we could ever have hoped for, and I missed it completely, again due to arrogance."

He pauses to look at the three detectives and Beckett wants to throttle him for stretching out the narrative.

"Bob's case wasn't about me, or my place at the precinct. It wasn't about Beckett, or protecting her. It was about Bob – it was always about Bob," Castle concludes.

"Please don't tell me that you think your friend is wrapped up in all this," Beckett says, weary of collateral damage to friends and relationships.

"Again, not directly. We even talked about this. When you had to take him in, what were the political ramifications? His hopes for the governor's office were blown away. He's held onto his mayoral position, but any aspirations for higher office are likely dead," Castle concluded.

"If Bob was the target, who would be threatened by the mayor of New York running for governor?" Castle asks rhetorically. "The current governor, clearly, or other rivals for that position. But why just governor? New York is a key state in the national political scene. The governor's office is a launching pad for Congressional and Cabinet positions. Excepting those who retired, the last eight governors went on to higher office."

Heads swivel as the detectives make eye contact with each other. Suddenly, they start to understand the foundation of Castle's paranoia.

"Bob must have known this immediately," Castle says to nods around the table. "He would also have known that whoever was responsible – the head of the snake, not the lackey – would likely be beyond the NYPD's reach."

"Weldon set this up?" Ryan cuts in, guessing where Castle is going. "You think Weldon was behind the press conference?"

"Yes, I do," Castle confirms. "It makes sense. He wants an ally in position to defend or avenge, but the NYPD won't work. And he doesn't want to draw attention, so he uses an opportunity where the Feds are involved to drive a wedge between me and the precinct, with the Feds there to offer an enticing alternative."

"'Enticing'," Beckett repeats, drawing the word out. "You're talking about Britton, aren't you? You think she was there as a … an inducement for you to join the Feds?"

Nodding, Castle says "I do. I haven't figured out yet if she's in on it or not, but I think her participation on the Cartwright case or her subsequent assignment as my 'supervisory agent' is hardly accidental."

"So you're supposed to hook up with the Fed. Sorry, I mean join up with the Feds, plural," Espo says with a smirk.

"Think much of yourself there, big guy?" Ryan laughs at Castle.

"Maybe. Maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there. But I think I should be insulted, Beckett should be insulted, if my theory is right. I mean, come on. Am I really supposed to chase after any beautiful woman who's dangled in front of me while forgetting everything else?" Castle asks. "Actually, forget it. I don't want to know how you'd answer that question."

"You might be right," Beckett says to the surprise of everyone in the room. "When I argued with Gates yesterday about your suspension, she said something about dealing with orders you don't like. At the time I thought she was talking about me, but later I started to think that she was talking about her own situation."

"That would make sense," Castle followed up, happy to have some potential corroboration and happy to hear that Beckett had made a run at Gates on his behalf. "It would also explain why the Commissioner let her answer the last question. Actually, that last question probably was a plant, just not from me," he said while casting a mock glare at Beckett.

"If you need to be federal to go after whoever framed Bob," Beckett says, "do you think he knows who it is?"

"No," Castle responds. "In fact, I know he doesn't."

"How do you know?" Ryan asked.

"Because I think Wilson's dirty. I think he's working for the guy who tried to frame Bob, who ordered the hit on Beckett's mom. If Bob had any idea, he'd never have set things up this way," Castle responds.

"Explain," Beckett commands. The rapport that had developed after their confrontation is now gone, dispelled again by the specter of Johanna Beckett.

Castle retains his mood, though, and explains directly. "Go back to the political angle – who is most threatened by Bob's possible political advancement? Let's make it easy and assume that only incumbents are threatened – you can all challenge that later. That gives us 35 names: 29 Representatives, 2 Senators, 1 governor, and 3 cabinet members or political appointees."

"Now, let's strike those who have announced their retirement – that removes eleven," Castle starts.

"Let's drop the two Republicans, assuming that Bob's not a threat, at least immediately, out of party," he continues.

"Now let's strike those that are entrenched incumbents, that loses another six," Castle says. "I know these are gross assumptions, but we can relax them later if you want. We're down to 16 possibles."

"My notes on these politicians and others are on the flash drive, along with my murderboard. But's let's fast forward. Of the sixteen on the winnowed list, nine were active in New York City in the year preceding Johanna Beckett's murder. But only one was in the DA's office. Only one turns up on the case reports involving Roy or Raglan or McAllister. Only one of the sixteen was in position to be connected to the people we know were involved in Beckett's mom's case," Castle slows in his delivery and pauses.

Looking at Beckett, he draws to his conclusion. "New York's junior Senator, William H. Bracken."

* * *

.

**A/N: One aspect of setting this in Season 4 is that there are some tensions to resolve, and you can see from above. As for some of the underlying details about Beckett's mom's case, it's been a little while since I've seen some of the episodes, so I'll cower behind the shield of AU if I've fudged any of the specifics.**


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: At the bottom

.

_"My notes on these politicians and others are on the flash drive, along with my murderboard. But's let's fast forward. Of the sixteen on the winnowed list, nine were active in New York City in the year preceding Joanna Beckett's murder. But only one was in the DA's office. Only one turns up on the case reports involving Roy or Raglan or McAllister. Only one of the sixteen was in position to be connected to the people we know were involved in Beckett's mom's case," Castle slows in his delivery and pauses._

_Looking at Beckett, he draws to his conclusion. "New York's junior Senator, William H. Bracken."_

* * *

This time, it's Esposito that breaks a long silence.

"A _senator_?" Espo says as he slumps back in his chair. "How can we touch a _senator_?"

"We can't, not yet. We're way out of our weight class." Castle said. "And we don't have anything yet, aside from speculation and coincidental timing. But, we can start thinking differently. We're not after some thug – we're after someone who has built a corrupt empire, someone who can snap his fingers to call on snipers and assassins. Someone with layers of protection and resources. So, we change our mindset. This isn't likely to end quickly, so we need to think about a longer game."

"We need allies," Ryan says, "people we can start vetting as trustworthy and capable. We need the new Untouchables."

"Agreed," said Castle. "I have hopes for Jordan Shaw, but it's still too early to sound her out. Beckett, as much as it kills me to say this, if Sorenson reaches out, I'll bite my tongue if you think he could help. I'm not sure who else we can recruit, but we need to start thinking about it."

"What about the AG's office? Shouldn't they be involved?" asks Esposito.

"Maybe formally," Ryan answers, "but we don't know anyone there. Seems like we need to have something more concrete before we risk going to them."

"We also need resources," Castle says. "I rebalanced my portfolio a bit after Coonan, and again when Beckett was, I mean, after Roy's funeral." Castle pauses, embarrassed by his faux pas. "It's a bit riskier, but it's paid off surprisingly well so far. We can't compete with a senator's war chest yet, but a few more books and we'll start making a dent."

"Stop! Just stop," says Beckett. She'd started to feel overwhelmed, now she's just angry. "Would you three listen to yourselves? You're being ridiculous. You've got to stop. You're talking about taking down a senator, about recruiting federal agents for a multi-year covert action against an elected official." Beckett's getting frustrated, which clearly shows as she runs her hand through her hair.

"And you!" she barks out while pointing at Castle. "'_Rebalancing your portfolio_'? You all have to stop. This isn't your fight. You can't take on a senator. Just leave it to me. I'll … figure something out."

Beckett's mind is racing, trying to get around the enormity of the task before her. It seems almost laughable, the notion of seeking justice against someone like Bracken. And the willingness of her colleagues to throw in with her lot in the face of such odds, which should cheer her, instead seems only a signal of their foolhardiness.

"That is a really shitty thing to say, Beckett," Esposito says after a moment of shocked silence. "Seriously, didn't you hear what Castle said before? We're not going to sit here and watch you take yourself out. We're a part of this."

"And every time you say that this isn't our fight, you dishonor our friendship and ignore our skills," Ryan says with an uncharacteristic bite to his voice. "You're not the only detective on this team."

Beckett recoils internally. Taking heat from Esposito is rare, taking it from both of the boys even more so. But what really drives home the point is Castle's reaction. He looks angry. Very angry.

"Say it, Castle" Beckett challenges, but it prompts no response. She's about to prompt him again when she sees him unclench his fists and take a deep breath.

"What does my vest say?" Castle asks. "My flak jacket – what does it say?"

"'Writer'?" Beckett answers, wondering why it's so difficult to stay on point.

"You're right. My bulletproof vest says 'Writer.' And for the last several months, so has yours," Castle says, using his thumb to point to himself. "So don't tell me this doesn't involve me. Don't tell me that I risked my life, the security I provide for my daughter and mother, for something that doesn't involve me. Step the hell back from your self-absorption and realize that this is a team, you're part of a team, part of a family."

"No, Castle, you're wrong," Beckett spits out. "_You_ have a family. _I've_ built my life to focus on this case, to bring everything I have to this fight, without obligations or conflicting responsibilities. I _made_ myself for this. Bracken declared war? Fine, I'll bring the war to him."

"So, you'll throw your life away. And the life of your _father_, because you think you have no '_obligations'_? And the three of us, if Bracken won't just stop with you? Fine, Beckett. Fine. I get it. It took several years to get it through my thick head, but I finally get it. Nothing will penetrate your selfishness, the value you place on the dead over the living," Castle says, his voice that started so strident fading as he concludes.

Running a hand through his hair, he slouches in his chair. "Then that's it. I'm done. I'll do what I need to do to finish this case, bring down Bracken, because I don't trust you to protect anyone's interests but your own. We'll finish this and I'll stop trying to 'insert myself where I don't belong,' as you said," Castle finishes with a frustrated, low voice.

What? That's not how this was supposed to go, thinks Beckett desperately. She's only trying to keep him safe, keep him from jeopardizing his life, his family. She turns to Esposito and Ryan for support, but sees only crossed arms and glares. Oh. She hadn't meant… Damn it, this is all wrong, all wrong. She wants to be the one to go after Bracken, but she needs help getting there. Which was Castle's point. Shit.

Beckett stares toward the tabletop before her, gathering her thoughts and ignoring whatever nonverbal interplay takes place between the other people in the room. When Castle speaks again, it's in a near monotone as he strains to keep the emotion out of his voice.

"I have several suggestions for how to start, but I'm open to ideas. The first goes back to Roy," Castle starts.

"The files," Esposito picks up. "For your deal, Smith has the documents but you had Beckett. But before that, Roy had both – he had the files and he protected Beckett. Which is more evidence that he was on the inside."

"We'll follow up with Evelyn," Ryan says. "Maybe she'll let us look around, or have some ideas on where Roy would put something that was valuable but dangerous. It seems unlikely that Roy wouldn't have had backups, insurance. It's a good starting place."

"Maybe," says Castle. "Bracken would have known this and has access to professionals who could've searched Roy's house to the foundation. But it's still worth checking, and as you say, maybe Evelyn knows of someplace special to Roy where he could have stashed a backup copy."

"We also need to try to locate the ones that went to your Mr. Smith," says Ryan.

Castle nods and says "Everything I have on Smith – my notes from our calls, the timing of the calls, the location of the meet, any thoughts on descriptions – it's all on the flash drives. I haven't made any headway, but maybe fresh eyes will help. Actually," Castle starts, giving this some thought, "if he was a friend of Roy, Evelyn might know him or have something at the house that could help. So that gets rolled up with the other search."

Esposito nods while making an affirmative grunt, while Ryan jots down some notes on the manila envelope.

"Also, someone needs to challenge – strongly – my assumption that it's Bracken. He feels right to me, but there were many jumps to get there. I appreciate," Castle says, looking straight at Esposito, "that you've been willing to entertain my conclusion despite the lack of evidence. But it will help to be challenged. After all, we might identify some accomplices or potential allies even if we've got the right guy."

"We need to build a file on Bracken, with everything we can find," Ryan says. "I assume that whatever you have is on the drive?" he asks Castle.

"Yes, it is," Castle agrees, "but I need to make two points. One: this has to stay silent – we need to let the information go for now if seeking it out raises flags. Bracken won't care if it's Beckett or not. If he thinks someone is building a case, the deal dies and she's a target again," Castle says, looking at Beckett for the first time since announcing his intention to leave the team.

Beckett sees his look and doesn't recognize it. Castle's still angry, but there's something darker in his stare. Something like disappointment. While she's studying him, she sees a sudden flash of insight cross his face and he stands and squares his shoulders to her. She curses herself for her openness, to him at least, and wonders if he figured out where her thoughts had drifted.

"Wait one minute," Castle says brusquely, drawing the attention of all in the room. "I know you, Beckett, and I want a promise. I deserve a promise, we all do. No unilateral action. If that's what it takes to draw him out, we do it right, we plan it in advance, and we set it up. Promise me that. Right now."

"What are you talking about, Castle?" asks Ryan.

"Beckett. She's thinking about blowing cover, letting our investigation get back to Bracken so that he sends someone after her for breaking the deal. She's thinking about using herself as bait and rolling it back to Bracken," Castle finishes, sounding appalled.

"I'm not," Beckett hears herself say, and notes how weak her denial sounds. "Not really. I was just thinking about possibilities. Besides, depending on how our investigation goes, we might need to bait Bracken at some point."

"Yeah, Beckett, but at the right time and in the right way. I'm with Castle on this. I want to hear that we're doing this right, that we're not taking on a US freaking senator only to have you go rogue and jeopardize the mission, endanger all of us," says Esposito, falling into speech patterns that belie his background.

"Fine," Beckett says curtly. "We'll discuss it before I do anything."

Looking doubtful, Castle continues. "My file on Bracken is on the flash drive. This picture is there, too, but we need to talk about it now."

Castle extracts a photo from a file drawn from his satchel. "This is a school photo from Breckenridge Prep, a private school uptown." With only one copy of the photo, the detectives move around the table to cluster by Castle. The photo lives up to the stereotype of private prep academies – it's taken outdoors on a beautiful campus with lush gardens in the foreground and imposing gothic architecture in the background. The young men in the photo are predominantly white and already seem to possess the haughty arrogance that will be their hallmark as corporate titans or political operators.

"Here," says Castle, using his finger to point to a face in the crowd in the middle of the shot, fourth row back, "is young Bill Bracken." Beckett looks, but there's nothing in particular (no evil gleam in the eyes, no devil's horns) to indicate the monster he'll become. "Here," says Castle again, as he points to a face in the row directly in front of Bracken, "is young Danny Wilson."

"Agent Wilson?" Ryan asks, but it sounds more like a statement than a question.

"One and the same," says Castle. "There's a file on Wilson on the stick, too. Bracken and Wilson intersect frequently. They were friends at Prep. They went to different colleges, but played the same sports and visited during summers. They served together in the army – that was actually the first connection I found."

"You think that Weldon knew that someone big was gunning for him, someone the NYPD couldn't touch. So he takes advantage of a situation to send you to the Feds, except that the Fed who is recruiting you is Bracken's ally," Ryan says.

"I think it's actually a little worse than that," Castle sighs. "Remember how quickly the FBI got here after we found Brooke? Bob couldn't have known which case of ours, if any, would call for Fed participation. So he had this set up and waiting. He reached out to the FBI sometime earlier and Wilson ended up as the point person. Do you think that's a coincidence? It sure doesn't feel like it."

Growing agitated, Castle continues. "Agent Wilson knew too much about me. He knew I've shadowed an attorney in Colorado, for example, which isn't something I've shared. He knew about my history, my cases. He even knew about some of the projects I saw while shadowing agents at the CIA. Sure, he might have access to this in the course of his ordinary duties, but it felt like more than that to me. Like someone has a dossier built on me, and he was prepped in advance."

"When did you figure this out – when you were down at Quantico?" Esposito asks.

"No, I went down to Quantico because I figured it out. It bothered me during the Cartwright case, and clicked into place in the FBI meeting after my suspension," Castle says.

"You went to Quantico knowing that Wilson's watching you?" Ryan says. "Castle, that's crazy."

"No, going back might be crazy. But going down this week was fine. After all, Wilson is based in New York, not DC or Quantico. Yes, he might not be alone, but we're not going to get anywhere by sitting at our desks. Besides, I wanted to meet with Jordan," Castle says.

"Wait a minute, bro, did you just say you're going back?" Esposito asks.

"Alexis' school group leaves tomorrow afternoon. I'm on the first flight to DC the next morning. I'll be back at Quantico before lunch on Sunday," Castle says with a shrug.

"Why?" Esposito follows up. "Even if you think Shaw could help, she's in Chicago, not DC or Virginia. You're just walking into the lion's den."

"You've got it backwards – I'm walking into Daniel's den. I guess that makes me the lion?" Castle chuckles. "It's a calculated risk. We need allies, and we need access to information. Training as an Inspector, I can get that."

"As a what now?" Esposito asks.

"An Inspector. I'd have federal credentials and access, but no formal office assignment and I'd lack the power to make arrests, at least initially. There are not many, and they usually start as agents, but they're out there," Castle explains. "Even if I don't pursue it that far, and I'm not likely to, the training will come in handy. I'm not sure I'm up for the exams, physicals, proficiency tests, and other hurdles to be official. A good solid few weeks of effort should get me started on the right path with them, though, if I can get my running times down and avoid getting pummeled again."

"Hah!" Esposito crows. "Who kicked your ass? Wait, was it Britton?" he asks gleefully.

"Everybody kicked my ass, 'Sito," Castle laments, "especially at first. I'm one big bruise from shins to shoulders. I was doing a _little_ bit better by the time I came back. And _I_ kicked ass on the firing range. That helped me regain some pride."

Castle looks at Esposito, who is still giving him a pointed, inquisitive stare. "Yes, fine, Espo. Dani kicked my ass. Repeatedly. Happy?"

"Very," Esposito gloats. "But I didn't realize that you wanted to spar. I'd appreciate the opportunity to go a few rounds with you, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who would like an officially sanctioned and approved chance to slap you around a bit." His smile slips a bit as he starts to looks at Beckett but turns to Ryan instead.

"What about your writing?" Beckett says, breaking into the conversation for the first time since their earlier blow up. "I thought you were going to the Hamptons to write your novel."

"This is more important," Castle says curtly. "Everything has been lined up for me to work with the Feds and it would look odd to bail on that now. We need access, we need friends, so I need to pursue Wilson's 'opportunity.' Besides, if they're bugging us, they know about the suspension and they know about Alexis' trips, so it'll be better if I spend my two weeks down in Virginia."

"You think it's the Feds, or Wilson, who planted those bugs?" Ryan asks.

"I'm not sure, but I think so. Whoever is behind it, they're active. I found my first one on the way back from Quantico. I was clean when I arrived at the Haunt and had picked up a tracker by the time I wrapped up at the piano. I didn't see who did it, but that was planted while I was at the bar," Castle concludes.

"Is that why you put on the show at the piano?" Ryan asks.

"Yep," Castle smiles. "If anyone was watching, I wanted them to think that I was in for the night, too drunk to get into mischief. Well, investigative mischief. Plus, it was a good way to blow off some steam."

The boys chuckle until interrupted by Beckett, reentering the conversation at last.

"Castle, you can't stop writing for this. Too many people depend on you and your books. My mom's case is no excuse to stop," Beckett interjects. This is haring too close to her own situation, and she doesn't want to admit right now how important Castle's books were in providing a lifeline after her mother's murder – that's something she hoped to save for a more intimate moment between them, if it ever arrived. But, she's also very uncomfortable with the notion on Castle shelving his writing on her behalf.

"Don't worry about me, Beckett," Castle says, returning to his monotone. "It's my responsibility, I signed a contract. It's my life and I know how to manage it."

Great, thinks Beckett, she meant to ensure that he'll keep writing and instead he thinks she's questioning his dedication. Yet another entry on tonight's list of poor outcomes.

"Text me if you need anything while I'm at Quantico, especially about your case or your meeting with Thresh," Castle says, having turned to Ryan and Esposito. "There won't many times when I can pick up calls, based on this week's schedule, but leave a voicemail. Just be careful about what gets recorded."

"Actually, that reminds me. Here are your last presents," Castle says as he reaches into the apparently bottomless satchel, withdrawing three long, thin boxes. "Everyone has a wand. These are pretty good, but they don't do anything for fiber-optics or laser microphones." While he's speaking Castle withdraws the box of phones, and places it on the table as well.

While the detectives retrieve their phones and inspect their wands, Castle tidies the room with cleaning supplies from a cabinet. The team retraces their steps to exit, but walk out of the parking ramp and start down the avenue until a black sedan pulls beside them.

"Michael here will take you all back to the Haunt to get your cars," Castle says. "I took a cab, so I'm heading home from here." The detectives climb into the car while Castle stands on the sidewalk. Beckett is again distressed – she's still angry and confused. She wants to talk to Castle to resolve some of this tension, but she has no idea what she'd say or how to do it in front of Ryan and Esposito. So, she instead finds herself sinking into the front passenger seat of the sedan.

"Good luck with Monday's meeting and be safe," Castle says while he holds then closes the door for Esposito and Ryan as they climb into the back of the sedan. Castle taps twice on the roof of the car, which then pulls away from the curb as Castle spins and walks in the opposite direction, alone in the night.

* * *

A/N: Comments from a very kind PM'er made me realize that I'd like to post a more upbeat chapter around Easter. So, this tense chapter posts a little earlier than planned to make way.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: At the bottom

.

_"Michael here will take you all back to the Haunt to get your cars," Castle says. "I took a cab, so I'm heading home from here." The detectives climb into the car while Castle stands on the sidewalk. Beckett is again distressed – she's still angry and confused. She wants to talk to Castle to resolve some of this tension, but she has no idea what she'd say or how to do it in front of Ryan and Esposito. So, she instead finds herself sinking into the front passenger seat of the sedan. "Good luck with Monday's meeting and be safe," Castle says while he holds then closes the door for Esposito and Ryan as they climb into the back of the sedan. Castle taps twice on the roof of the car, which then pulls away from the curb as Castle spins and walks in the opposite direction, alone in the night._

* * *

**Saturday morning ~6:00 AM**

Less than five hours later, Beckett finally gives up on trying to sleep and rises to start her day. Top Ten, she thinks, ranking last night on her list of worst nights of her life. Maybe even Top Five. She hates Castle a little for the timing of last night's discussion, even though she knows she's being irrational. But how could she sleep after that meeting? She knows the name of her mother's killer, the name of the man who tried to have her killed, the man who succeeded in killing Captain Montgomery. On top of that, she's had her worst fight ever with Castle, resulting in his intention to leave the precinct, for which she knows that she's entirely to blame. And, if the oppressive silence during the ride back to the Haunt is any indication, she's also seriously alienated the other members of her team.

With a sigh, she sets about her morning-off routine, stretching and getting limber. All through her yoga and subsequent run through the streets of New York, she lets last night's revelations run through her head. This is why she loves exercising, especially running. It's hard to keep a coherent, cogent line of thought during these exertions. Instead, her attention gambols about in her head, poking nonlinearly at thoughts from different angles. She's found it to be an effective way of processing complex issues. Problems often seem easier to solve after these sessions.

Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be the case today. After her exercise, she's reached only one real conclusion: she needs to talk to Castle before he leaves for Quantico. That stalwart, infuriating man is going to press on against Bracken regardless of Beckett's objections. He deserves an apology and her support. That would be true if he was pursuing any case, but it's especially true because he's doing this on her behalf, has been for years.

But, what scares her the most is the possibility of his walking away, the disappointment on his face and in his voice after their final eruption last night. She hates that he might leave, that she's driven him to this. She's been drawing closer and closer to Castle in her mind, the tantalizing possibility of something more with him coming into focus, until last night's fight. Now she wonders if it's folly to think that they could dive into something together.

Letting herself back into her apartment after cooling down from her run, Beckett decides to call Castle immediately, without allowing the time to talk herself out of it. He should be awake by now, she thinks, but he might choose to feign sleep rather than take her call.

Castle demonstrates his good manners in picking up the call on the third ring, though his tone isn't terribly warm when he answers with "Castle."

"Hey, Castle," Beckett says, faltering slightly now that she actually has him on the line.

"Beckett," he replies with no change in tone.

Beckett pauses, uncertain of how to proceed. The silence stretches, but Castle seems content to wait, or perhaps he's unwilling to initiate a discussion. Finally, Beckett starts to talk, if only to fill the void. With luck, she thinks, something that comes out of her mouth will make sense.

"Castle, can we talk? In person, I mean? I'd like to talk to you before you leave," Beckett says, congratulating herself on communicating a complete thought, even if she's only setting the bar higher for what she'll need to address later if Castle is willing to meet with her.

"What more is there to say, Beckett?" he asks in response, sounding slightly defeated.

"Please?" Beckett asks, surprising herself. "Alexis leaves this afternoon, right? How about dinner?"

"I've got dinner plans," Castle replies after a few heartbeats.

Oh, thinks Beckett, but she refrains from asking with whom he's having dinner. This conversation is already fraught and that will send it right off the rails. "Maybe breakfast tomorrow? I can drive you to the airport. I'll just return you, since I picked you up yesterday," she offers while reaching for some levity.

"I've changed my plans," Castle responds. "I'm driving down to Virginia. I'm leaving pretty early to make sure I get to Quantico before lunch."

"Oh," Beckett replies. This isn't going well. She's wondering if she should give up when Castle extends an olive branch.

"I could meet for coffee after I drop off Alexis, before dinner," he offers.

"That sounds good. The place around the corner from the loft?" Beckett suggests.

"I'll meet you there at 4:00," Castle says.

Beckett thinks that he's hung up on her, but says "Thanks, Castle," nonetheless.

"Kate, I … I'll see you there," he says, and this time he does hang up.

* * *

Beckett makes sure to get to the shop before Castle so that she can be the one providing the coffee. It's a small way of showing that she's trying, but she knows Castle will recognize it. She considers securing the soft chairs in the corner, but discards the thought. It's likely that if Castle will actually talk with her, she'd prefer to have more privacy than this cozy café can provide. No, she hopes instead that Castle will walk with her, let their feet wander along with the conversation.

She's just purchased their drinks when Castle comes in through the door. He looks good, but tense. He is dressed well and she finds herself wondering if this was for his dinner plans or for his farewell with Alexis. That thought makes her realize that the timing of this meeting is probably terrible for Castle.

As she hands him the coffee she's prepared for him, she says "I'm sorry, Castle. When you agreed to talk with me this morning, I was so relieved that I didn't stop to think about the timing. It's probably unusual for me to go three weeks with only seeing Alexis once. Have you ever been away from her for so long?"

Castle simply stares at her, and Beckett understands his dilemma. She's just asked him a very personal question, but one that he would have answered easily a week ago. In fact, just yesterday at this time, he probably would have been pleased by personal inquiries. But after last night's arguments, her questions seem too intimate. He probably doesn't want to risk opening up any more if he's planning to leave.

Just as she's about to apologize or redirect the conversation, Castle answers. "Not even since the beginning. But I have to get used to it. I've only got a few months left."

He's trying to modulate his tone again, but he isn't successful: the grief over the looming departure of his daughter is already taking hold. Until yesterday, Beckett would have reacted to this admission with a clasped hand or a shoulder bump, but those roads are closed to her now.

"Castle, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked," she says. "Will you walk with me?"

With Castle nodding and looking slightly less tense, Beckett congratulates herself on opting for a walking conversation. Clearly, Castle's also got some anxiety to address too, so maybe they can lose some of the tension on their walk.

Beckett takes the lead in silence, though she has no particular destination in mind. They walk together without any words for several minutes, and Beckett is glad of the quiet. She thinks that they are moving in micro-increments. First, they just need to get comfortable being next to each other. The words will follow.

Three blocks and ten minutes later, Beckett is ready to reach out with words as well as physical proximity. She thinks she has a plan for this conversation, or at least an opening gambit. Here goes everything, she thinks.

"Castle, when I mentioned getting help yesterday morning, outside your loft, I was talking about my therapist," she says abruptly while casting him a glance. He returns the look without changing his expression. Beckett guesses that this is the neutral state between his natural curiosity and the other parts of him that probably want to throw her a scowl.

"I was reluctant to see him at first. I had to, after my shooting, but I was anxious to get through the mandatory sessions and get my weapon back. It wasn't until _later_," Beckett says, and knows that Castle understands which "later" she means, "that I started seeing him for real, started really trying. I realized that I had a lot of work to do to make myself whole. It's helped me a lot, at least until I blew it all up last night."

Castle continues to walk, not breaking stride or into the conversation. Perhaps that's for the best, Beckett thinks. Maybe he's giving her the chance to lay it all out, or maybe he wants to listen before he reacts. If he were unwilling, he'd have diverted his route or forced a confrontation. Best to keep going, see if she can reach her goal.

"We talk about you a lot," Beckett says, not looking to see Castle's reaction. "Well, I talk about you a lot. Dr. Burke mostly asks questions. But his questions have helped me."

Still no reaction from Castle, and now Beckett's getting a little worried. She's on the cusp of a painful revelation, one that she's not fully discussed with Burke. But her situation feels a little desperate, so she decides to take a leap of faith.

"I'm still having trouble. Obviously. But there's something that I'm struggling with that's especially unfair to you. It was on full display again last night," Beckett says. "I've trusted my instincts for years. They are probably my greatest strength as a detective. But my instincts are a mess when it comes to you. If I stop to think, I know what I should do, how I should feel. Even if it's frightening or overwhelming, it's right."

"But too often," Beckett continues with a frustrated sigh, "if I'm surprised or threatened, my instincts about you are wrong. I _know_ you're an amazing investigator. But when Gates sent you into that interrogation alone, it's like I thought you'd never know what to do. I _know_ you are most loyal man I've ever met. But when you told me about Smith last night, my first reaction was to think you'd betrayed me."

It's starting to look like Castle will walk beside her forever. She could live with that, if he'd just talk to her, let her know what he's thinking. Looking around, she recognizes the neighborhood and makes a turn to alter their course. Maybe she's been heading this way without knowing it.

"So, I owe you an apology. Many apologies, actually. But apologizing for last night isn't enough. It wasn't just my words last night, but my reaction. You were right to take the deal, and you were right that I would have done the same thing for you," she says. Then, deciding that there's little point in holding onto it when the rest of her cards were already on the table, she continues. "And as much as I want to deny it, to hate you for seeing it, I have been selfish. I've conditioned myself to expect to do this alone. But I'm not. I haven't been for years. You were right about that, too."

Beckett's words run out just as her feet bring her to a view of their swings, the site of their conversation about her walls from months ago. It seems appropriate, but the last time they were here they were alone. It's a Saturday afternoon and despite the approach of dinner time, kids cavort on and around the swings. Still, the point is made even if they have to settle for a nearby bench.

Beckett settles in and tries not to dwell on Castle's continued silence. Casting him a look, she sees him staring at the swings. She has a pretty good idea what he's thinking, but she'll wait for him to talk.

After a few moments, Castle lets out a long sigh and leans back against the bench. He extends his arm – the one on the other side from Beckett – along the top of the bench. His other hand still holds his coffee, which must be getting tepid at this point.

"What do you want, Beckett?" Castle finally asks. "I keep trying to figure it out, and every time I think I've got it, the ground shifts and I'm back where I started. So, right now, right here – what do you want?"

"I want …" Beckett starts, but realizes that she's phrased this wrong. She's not sure she's ready for what she wants, yet, or if it's even possible, but she knows what she fears. "I don't want you to leave."

"It's only two weeks, Beckett," Castle says brusquely, "and it won't be dangerous. We need this access, this potential. It could help us," Castle stops abruptly, realizing that they are in public and he need not specify which investigation it is that might be helped.

"That's not what I was talking about," Beckett admits. "I'm not worried about you at Quantico. I don't want you to leave the precinct. I don't want you to leave me."

This admission prompts another pause from Castle, but it's shorter this time, and he sounds more engaged, if still a little cold. "It's appropriate that we ended up back at this park, Beckett. I frequently think about our conversation here. It's one of the single most confusing days of my recent life," he says with a grim, mirthless chuckle.

"You know what I've figured out since that day?" he asks. "Your walls aren't going to come down. They can't. If I keep trying to knock them down, I'm going to collapse from exhaustion or you'll be crushed when they crumble. It's lose-lose. My only chance, our only chance, is that you come out from behind them. Goodness knows I've tried to coax you out with humor and banter and not-so-silent adoration. But every time I think I see reason for hope I end up that much more disappointed."

Beckett starts to regret wishing that Castle would talk. She's collecting tears in her eyes, desperate to not let them fall, and there's a low thrum in her head that is making it difficult to focus or hear. As usual, his words are evocative, piercing.

"You know what I'm afraid of, Kate?" Castle asks rhetorically. He's no longer aloof, but worn down instead. "I'm afraid of when it doesn't hurt anymore, this little dance of ours. I worry about being conditioned to expect failure. I've been there before and I don't want to go back. I _won't_ go back."

"I don't want that, either," Beckett says quietly, speaking around the emotional knot in her throat. "How … What do we do, Rick?"

"However you define what we have between us – partnership, friendship, romance – whatever aspect we're talking about, I don't want it to result from capitulation. The days of forcing my way onto your team are done. I want to stay, but only if you want me there," Castle starts. "And if we have a chance at romance, at building something exquisite and enduring, you have to want it, too. No relationship by default. If that's what we want, then we have to make some changes, work for it. And if that's not what we want, then it's time to come clean with each other and play a new song rather than let the old one spin on in repeat."

It's the most direct Beckett can remember Castle being, pragmatically laying out the way forward for them. But he's being frustratingly vague about which paths he hopes they will tread. She understands why – she needs to decide what she wants, not be led to it. Now that she thinks about it, the fact that Castle mentioned the whole range of relationships are possible suggests that he's willing to put in the effort to build something 'exquisite and enduring' with her. It's a ray of hope that she didn't expect to see after last night.

"I've got a suggestion," Castle offers, drawing Beckett's attention back to him. "I'm about to go away for two weeks. Let's take that time to think about what we want, what we hope for. When I come back, we sit down and talk about the future and what that might mean for us."

Beckett is nodding along with this suggestion until she notices that Castle's not done but looks slightly ill at ease. With raised eyebrows and an inquisitive look, she encourages him to continue. "Not for that conversation, but for one after it – we might benefit from the participation of a therapist," he suggests uncomfortably.

"Yours or mine?" Beckett replies with a small smile, road-testing a theory she's developed.

"Either, Detective. Or someone new. We're just not very good at this and could benefit from some help, I think," Castle replies with a shrug.

"I think it's a good idea, Rick," Beckett replies with subtle enthusiasm. "Before my shooting I'm not sure I'd have agreed, but I've learned a lot since then. I'd like you to meet Dr. Burke, and I know he wants to meet you."

"Great. Thanks, Kate, that doesn't sound ominous at all," Castle grumbles. "'_My therapist has some questions for you_,'" he says in an menacing voice.

"What's the matter? I thought everyone you meet is a potential fan, Castle," she teases, ecstatic that they seem to be falling into a more comfortable rhythm again.

"And how often do you see me submit to an interrogation session with a fan, Kate?" Castle asks, "Excepting present company, of course."

"We were talking about imaginary scenarios yesterday, Castle," Beckett laughs in response. "Catch up."

With that, Castle lapses into a companionable silence that Beckett happily joins. After a moment, Castle shifts his coffee cup to his other hand and then drapes his arm over Beckett's shoulders. Sitting on a bench in the park, tucked tight to Castle's side, Beckett feels a fragile contentment settle over her. She knows that important questions linger and that dwelling on them will break her peace. So she just lets herself float in the moment.

Eventually, Castle's phone buzzes, an alarm that he must have set earlier. Heaving a sigh, he disarms the phone and mumbles "Time to make the donuts."

"That's an interesting euphemism for a dinner date, Castle," Beckett says, making no effort to move from her spot at Castle's side.

"Dinner? Yes. Date? _No_." Castle replies. "Don't worry about it Kate, you can probably read all the gory details in the paper tomorrow."

"Hmmm?" Beckett prompts, as this is safer than guessing at his companion.

"This is the problem with not letting my ex-wife into the loft," Castle says, finally shifting to stand. "We have to meet in public, and I'll not be surprised if she's tipped the press. She said she just wanted to 'catch up,' but I think she knows about my book deal with Davison. Dinner will probably be a hearty harangue and a side of sarcasm served with a lovely vitriol sauce, with tears and histrionics for dessert."

"Sounds delicious, Castle," Beckett says with a laugh, also standing.

"The press thinks so," Castle replies with a wince. "Still, I have some tricks up my sleeve. This isn't my first rodeo."

"Giddy-up," replies Beckett with a smirk.

"You know, Beckett, … " Castle starts with a leer, but he's promptly cut off.

"Don't even, Castle. In the interest of preserving future options, it's vitally important that you not articulate that thought," Beckett says, though she knows that her cheerful expression is at odds with the severity of her words.

"Duly noted and recorded for posterity and future discussions, Detective," Castle replies with a small smile as he starts walking toward the street with Beckett beside him.

* * *

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A/N: There! A little optimism. Time to chuck the kids in the car and head off for spring break. Happy Easter to all who celebrate it.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

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* * *

**Tuesday ~7:45 PM**

**All set here**, Beckett texts Castle on her clean phone. She and Esposito are back at the makeshift table in the storage room on the top floor of the precinct, awaiting a call from Castle. Ryan's rooting through the detritus piled in the room as if looking for buried treasure. The mood is still tense, but less so following Beckett's apologies to her colleagues during lunch. To her consternation, the boys seemed to respond more to her comment that she'd talked with Castle than to the regrets she shared with them.

"Aha!" Ryan proclaims, catching Beckett's attention, just as a small avalanche of cast-off office equipment cascades over his feet. Extricating himself and walking to join the others, he lays his prize on the table. Connecting a cable from the newly-found speaker phone to the burner phone, he gives a satisfied smile when the system seems to work and the phone begins to ring. "Hey Castle," Ryan says in greeting after sitting down and accepting the call.

"Hi Ryan," Castle says, starting a chain reaction that he can't appreciate over the phone. The volume of the new speaker was set to maximum and Castle's greeting causes all three detectives to push away from the table to escape the blaring noise and screeching feedback. Unfortunately, that's far more stress than the already-broken table can withstand, causing it to lose the leg diagonally across from the one that's already missing. Unbalanced, the table corner falls onto Ryan's lap. With an unmanly squeak, Ryan shoves the table away, which causes the opposite corner to come down atop Esposito. His improvised chair collapsing beneath him, Esposito tumbles to the floor with crossed legs while the table crashes down beside him, catapulting the phone into the air.

Beckett surveys the carnage with a look of wonder. In the span of mere seconds, her colleagues have been laid low by a vicious table attack, both with hands protecting their sensitive areas lest the table somehow return.

"Uh, hello?" Castle's voice calls from somewhere off to the side of the mess. Chuckling to herself, Beckett retrieves the phone while trying to decide how to explain what happened to Castle. Unplugging the external speaker, Beckett says "Sorry, Castle, we had a little mishap in our hideout. I hope you didn't have your heart set on being a godfather for either of the boys, as I'm not sure that's possible any longer."

Chuckling in response, Castle says "Fellas, I told you she wouldn't be happy when she found out about that bet. You brought this on yourselves." Ryan and Esposito have stopped writhing in agony only because the shock from Castle's comment has them tensing up again.

"Bet? What bet?" Beckett asks quickly.

Realizing that he just accidentally sold out his colleagues, Castle reacts quickly. "_Debt_. I said _debt._ Ryan and Espo lost a contest with some guys in Vice, and they're hoping that you can help them out," Castle starts.

"Save it, Castle. Impressive extemporizing, but you said 'bet.' We'll pick this discussion up after our call," she says while scowling at her colleagues, wondering what the bet could be if Castle assumed that she'd assault Ryan and Esposito upon learning of it. Maybe she doesn't want to know. On the other hand, the banter with Castle seems to continue easing the lingering strain between her and the boys.

"I'll start," Ryan offers, returning slowly to his improvised chair. Esposito crawls over and sits on the floor while Beckett slides her undamaged chair over to complete the triangle around the phone on the floor.

"You had Thresh pretty much nailed," Ryan says. "We hadn't even sat down before he started putting on a show for the restaurant, berating us for our incompetence in account management, talking about how he had to address this outside of the office to 'cut out the cancer.' You can guess how lunch ended."

"Let's see," Castle says jovially. "He 'fired' you both and stormed out?"

"Got it in one," Ryan says. "Fired us, but only after accusing us, very loudly, of cheating on our wives by sleeping together."

"Man, that guy is a prick," Esposito growls while massaging his knuckles. "I kind of hope that we cross paths again."

"Did you get what you need?" Castle asks.

"Yes and no. We got a name of someone at the Society that Menendez was harassing – John Barrington," Ryan answers. "He works at a boutique firm offering environmental consultancy services to C-suite clients. According to Thresh, Menendez was trying to get to Barrington at the Society, but got tossed out. They caught him lurking around outside and had him tossed further."

"We talked to Barrington," Esposito follows up. "He claims to not know Menendez, that no one was trying to talk to him, that he's never heard of LDS, and that he was consulting with a client when Menendez was killed."

"You don't sound happy, Espo. Barrington not your guy?" Castle asks.

"It's too soon to tell," Esposito answers. "He's certainly hiding something. But we can't go to LDS to ask if he's a member. He doesn't show up on any CCTV footage during the window he says he was away, but the local cameras are pretty far from the building. His employer rebuffed our request for employment records, and we're unlikely to get a warrant given that our meeting with Thresh was off the record."

"I don't know if I can help," Castle admits. "I don't have anyone else to call to set up a meeting like we had with Thresh. I've never heard of John Barrington. You've obviously tracked down anything I could suggest."

"Oh, come on, Castle," Beckett chides. "This should be right up your alley – a mysterious death outside the premises of a secret society, possibly involving a conspiracy of New York's established gentry – and you've got no theories for us? The FBI must be leeching the imagination right out of you," she chuckles.

"Life here is more regimented than I've ever experienced, that's certainly true," Castle says with a slight groan. "Okay, okay, consider me properly chastised. I'll assume that you've already looked for Masonic symbology and eliminated the possibility of tontines as motive, since those are obvious when dealing with old money," Castle begins, prompting Ryan and Esposito to look at each other and start scribbling notes, while Beckett rolls her eyes at her gullible teammates.

"Castle, maybe you know someone at Barrington's firm?" Beckett prompts. "Getting our hands on his employment records and timesheets might be an easy first step in identifying whether to push harder on him."

A few beats of silence pass and Beckett wonders if they've lost the connection. "You are such a tease, Beckett. You lure me in with talk of dark cabals and then it turns into a Human Resources field trip," Castle huffs. "Fine, let's be boring and logical. Where does Barrington work?"

"It's a place called Aviastor Technologies down by Battery Park," Esposito supplies.

After a short pause, Castle barks a laugh. "Fine, fine, you got me. I guess I deserved that after pushing a little too zealously about my contributions to the team. I formally apologize. Now, where does he really work?"

The detectives look at each other with raised eyebrows, but no one knows what Castle is talking about.

"Castle, Barrington works at Aviastor. He's a Vice President in their Sustainability practice," Ryan supplies.

"Really?" Castle asks. "This isn't a setup?"

"Is there something wrong, Castle? If this is a problem, we'll find another way in," Beckett offers, trying to resolve whatever problem Castle's encountered.

"No, no, nothing's wrong," Castle says with a long sigh. "I'll call you back in five minutes," he says and hangs up with nothing more.

"That was weird," Ryan says as he stands up and stretches gingerly. "I wonder who he knows at Aviastor that he thought we were setting him up."

"None of the names look familiar," Esposito says, "but we'll know soon enough when Castle calls back."

The detectives set about moving the worthless table aside and finding furniture upon which to sit while they await Castle's return call. While they scavenge through the remains, Ryan cries out "I found the diadem!" When no one responds, he mutters "Castle would have laughed," and continues poking around until the phone rings again.

"Hey, Castle," Beckett says upon connecting the call. "How'd it go?"

"Swimmingly," Castle says in a deadpan voice. "I'll be up tomorrow night to plead our case over dinner at Cipriani."

"You're coming back? Castle, you don't need to travel up and down the Eastern seaboard to help clear our cases," Beckett says.

"No, this is karma. In so many ways. But it was just recently that I boasted that I helped reduce case closure times, so it's time to live up to what my big mouth promised, if I can," Castle vows.

"With a night out at Cipriani?" Esposito cuts in with little sympathy. "Doesn't sound too bad to me. And I bet you're not knocking them back with Thresh, or even with a guy, right?"

"Espo, I'd trade this session for a night on the town with Thresh if I could," Castle says, and Beckett can practically picture him shuddering. "But, this means that even if I'm successful, which isn't a slam dunk, you won't get the files until Thursday morning at the earliest. Sorry about that, but I couldn't get it set up sooner."

"No worries, bro, we've got other trees we can shake tomorrow," Esposito says amiably. "And, since it sounds like we're going no further tonight, I'm heading out. Take care, Castle, try not to embarrass us down there."

"Thanks, 'Sito, I'll do my best," grumbles Castle.

"Beckett, I'm heading out, too," Ryan says. He's almost out the door when Beckett calls out "I haven't forgotten about that bet!" which causes him to dart through and close the door abruptly behind him.

"I don't suppose I could compel you to tell me what their bet was about?" Beckett asks Castle.

"You're certainly welcome to try, but it's not my story to tell and I get into enough trouble of my own. Time to detect, Detective," Castle replies affably.

It's only been three days since she and Castle had their talk, but Beckett is anxious to reconnect with her partner. The revelations from Friday night and their personal discussion on Saturday have been swirling in her mind. She pictures a tornado in her head, with the fierce spiral of thoughts whipping around and threatening destruction, but with Castle in the calm center.

"How goes your work on the great American novel?" she asks, letting her curiosity and interest shine through in her tone.

"Surprisingly well. I'll deny saying this if it ever comes up, but adopting a strict schedule seems to be helping. Maybe it's just that this book is so different than anything I've done, so my new schedule just reinforces the difference," Castle speculates.

"Are you sure you want to jeopardize that to come up here, Castle?" Beckett asks kindly. "Maybe we can find another way into Aviastor."

"It'll be fine," Castle says bracingly. "I'll take the train up, since Cipriani is just across the street from the station. And I'll have the car service drive me back so that I can write from the city back to Quantico. That's _ten hours_ of writing time between the two trips, and I'll get back in time for the regular routine."

"Tell me about this rough schedule of yours," Beckett coaxes. "Don't they know that writers don't like to wake before 9:00?"

"Hah! It's the same schedule I started last week," Castle says. "By 9:00 I've done two hours of exercise, had breakfast, and started hand-to-hand training. Then it's to the range at 10:30, lunch, five hours of coursework, dinner, then studying and writing until I pass out. It's a Spartan approach, but I'm finding that I like it."

"Are you going to keep it up when you come back?" Beckett asks. This is a strategy that she decided upon sometime in the last few days. Rather than worry about whether Castle will come back after his time with the Feds, she's going to speak confidently as if it's already been decided that he will. She wants him back at the precinct and she's decided to let him see that this is one of the things she wants for their future.

"I'll have to make some adjustments for being a dad and not neglecting the people close to me. But there might be something to this. Aside from the bruises, exhaustion, muscle strains, and lack of sleep, I'm feeling great," he says with a chuckle.

Laughing along with him just makes her more anxious to connect, so Beckett blurts out the question she wonders if she should have withheld. "Will you have time for a quick coffee before you leave tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that, Detective," he replies.

* * *

**Wednesday ~9:30 PM**

"Castle, you should have told me who you were meeting with," is the first thing out of Beckett's mouth when she sees him at the café around the corner from Cipriani. She takes in his appearance – dressed well, as usual, but ruffled, the look you'd expect after a long, trying day. He's haggard and little unfocused, as if he's been pushing himself a bit too hard lately. He probably has been.

"Who figured it out?" Castle asks as he sinks into the soft chair across from Beckett with a long, contented sigh. Something between a growl and a purr, Beckett enjoys the sound of his exhalation a bit too much.

"Ryan. Knowing you, he started by checking the female names for Aviastor's executives and Board members," Beckett says with a smile. "He thought maybe it was a Castle special from your more debaucherous days. It took him a while to get to Sheila Van Duren on the Board of Directors, but it clicked when he ran aliases." Castle grimaces while nodding and blowing across the top of his coffee.

"We were a little surprised to learn that you agreed to dinner and drinks with the mother who convinced your college sweetheart to leave you. And with her freshly divorced herself?" Beckett asks rhetorically. "Oh, Rick, that couldn't have been pleasant."

"It was pretty miserable," Castle says with a grim chuckle as he lets his head fall back against the headrest of his chair. "But you know me, always the optimist. Now I've got some fodder for the next time I need to write a poignant scene about love forestalled and passion corrupted."

"More meticulous research?" Beckett asks, making a joke to prevent them from lingering on Castle's past romance.

"I'm a slave to my craft," he says, grinning at the ceiling. "It actually wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be. She still despises me, mind you," he says to Beckett's chuckle. "But poor Greg – that sorry bastard has to deal with one miserable mother-in-law. She actually spent a fair part of our dinner complaining about him. To me!"

Beckett gives a fond smile and is prompted to speak when Castle remains quiet. "I was just thinking that this was a great conversation for you as a writer. Something that proves how meandering and surprising life can be. Think back to your time in college, or right after. Could your writer's imagination have envisioned you sharing drinks at a swanky restaurant, listening to Kyra's mother complain to you about her son-in-law while you try to pump her for information in a police investigation of a secret society?"

"Utterly ridiculous," Castle says with a smile. "You know, I think she's a little lonely, actually. She's divorced, she's created a tension with her daughter's husband, and she's got no one else. A sister in Florida, I think, but they're not close. I feel bad for her," he says in a low voice.

Beckett's about to offer some kind words about Castle's compassion when he straightens from the headrest and looks at her. "You know what she said? She said that she wished that I'd tried harder. That I'd overcome the obstacles she put up and won Kyra over."

Before Beckett can examine the feeling of discomfort that's stolen over her, Castle continues and dispels the mood. "It's fantasy, of course. She wants to believe that a different course all those years ago would have put her in a different place now. I can understand that. But what surprised me is how uncomfortable envisioning that scenario made me feel. I've bumbled and stumbled along the way, worse than most people, but I've got a pretty good life," Castle says contentedly, casting Beckett a gentle smile that warms her from head to heart.

"Anyway," Castle says abruptly, "I should have said this from the start: she'll help us out. Someone will drop off Barrington's files tomorrow morning. And as enlightening as today's dinner with her might have been, I'm getting the hell out of town before she changes her mind or decides to have Kyra deliver the files by hand. We're courting enough drama, don't you think?" he says affably.

"Our own version of 'Temptation Lane,' I guess," Beckett says.

"'Temptation' you say? Do tell, Detective," Castle says with a leer.

"Would you have preferred 'Fantasy Island'?" Beckett replies with a huff.

"Hmmm, tropical island…," Castle hums as he gives Beckett a lingering look from head to toe.

"Castle!" she chastises. She suspects that her blush undermines the attempt at indignation.

It's a memory she recalls fondly for the next several days.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

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* * *

**Friday ~3:30 PM**

**We need to talk.** Beckett texts Castle from the stairwell. She's surprised to receive a reply of **Ten Minutes?** almost immediately. She thought he was sitting in on classes in the afternoons. Maybe Fridays have an abbreviated schedule, or maybe he's just bored.

Sneaking up to the storage room and getting set takes nearly all of her time, so she's just getting settled when the burner phone rings. Beckett hits connect and holds the phone to her ear, happy that without the boys she doesn't need to bother with the speaker.

"Hey, Castle," she answers, trying to sound as cheerful as possible under the circumstances.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Castle fires off immediately. She should have known that he'd not be fooled by her false tone.

"I'm okay, everyone's okay. Well, not everyone. Barrington's dead. So is Thresh." Beckett reports.

"What happened?" Castle asks with a tone of confusion.

"Castle, how did you know about LDS?" Beckett asks. If Castle is thrown by this turn in the conversation, he doesn't let it affect his reply.

"Poker. I used to play in more high-stakes games than I have lately, and met some members at the tables. A couple of them suggested bringing me in, challenging the three-generation requirement or even faking my paternity to link me to a family that could get me in," Castle explains. "But I wasn't kidding last week – it's not really something I'm comfortable with. I didn't push to get in and they recognized my disinterest. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think they killed Barrington and Thresh. I'll never prove it. I can't even speculate on the record or in my reports. But I think they did it," Beckett admits, and prepares for the glee with which Castle will respond to her confessed belief in a murderous conspiracy.

"Why do you think that?" he responds instead. "Want to tell me what happened, talk it through?"

"Barrington ate a gun at the desk in his study," Beckett starts, pleased by Castle's sincere interest. "One shot, through the roof of his mouth and out the back of his skull. No chance of survival," Beckett says. "He left a note. It explained that he'd met Menendez's sister at a bar and had a torrid affair, threatened her to stay quiet when he broke it off and roughed her up to drive the point home. Menendez found out about it and tried to go after Barrington. They fought, Menendez lost. Wracked with guilt over killing Menendez and betraying his wife, Barrington put his affairs in order and then blew his own head off."

"You don't believe it," Castle infers from Beckett's tone of voice and uncharacteristically abrupt word choices.

"No, I don't," Beckett says. "Oh, the note is his, and the evidence points to him for Menendez. But I think the story's a lie. I don't think he met her at a bar and I don't think he felt any guilt about beating her or killing her brother."

"I saw Kyra yesterday," Beckett continues, sure that the abrupt jump in the conversation would signal her frustration and unease to Castle. "She did hand-deliver the files. She says 'hi' and wants you to give her a call."

"See that, Beckett? Only two weeks of training and I've already dodged a bullet. This place is paying off," Castle says, using humor to protect them, as usual.

"The files confirmed that Barrington lied about his client meetings and gave us enough to approach him and LDS," she said, containing herself.

"You did it, didn't you? You walked right up to a secret men's club and started pounding on the front door," Castle chortles with proud glee. "Oh, how I would have loved to see that."

"Yeah," Beckett says happily, "I wasn't cowed by the testosterone." Sobering, she continues. "You can guess how the actual interview went – denial of any society, denial of any membership, no knowledge of Barrington or Menendez, and the appearance of about five lawyers within five minutes. I got kicked out shortly thereafter."

"And went to see Abe Menendez's sister?" Castle asks.

"Exactly," Beckett says, content that her partner anticipated her steps. "She still looks bad – the black eye wasn't really visible, but she moved gingerly enough to suggest that some of her injuries still have a while to go before healing. You'll never guess what she had to say."

"Let's see," speculates Castle. "She would have confirmed the affair, and the abuse, but been vague on the details of where she met Barrington or where they went for their trysts?"

"Those classes are serving you well, Castle," she says, trying for humor herself. "They met at 'some bar,' went to 'some hotels' to spend time together. She's never heard of LDS or been in the neighborhood in which we found her brother 'for some years.'"

"So, you think that someone from LDS sat down with Barrington and explained to him what would happen from the attention he brought to the Society? That they pressured him to take a drastic step and paid off or threatened the sister to keep quiet?" Castle guesses.

"Barrington has a son. He's a young cardiothoracic surgery resident at Presbyterian," Beckett says. "If Barrington's in LDS, then his son probably is, too, or will be soon, given the whole 'family line' thing they have going. That sounds like an extra pressure point the Society could have used in explaining to Barrington that he needed to clean up his mess in a way that kept LDS out of the spotlight."

"And if Barrington's out of the frame, then the only one left who could tie any of this to LDS is Menendez's sister," Castle follows. "Who has just seen her brother killed by an LDS member who died himself shortly thereafter. I imagine that she'd be pretty easy to intimidate right now, though LDS was probably smart enough to couch it in terms that couldn't be used in prosecution, probably dressed it up with some hush money," he speculates.

"You forgot somebody," Beckett prompts.

"Thresh. They had to track down how you tumbled onto Barrington, and somehow they found out about Thresh. Was he another 'suicide'?" Castle asks.

"Maybe. He OD'ed," Beckett answers. "They found him at a flophouse in Brooklyn. Lanie said that he's so full of puncture marks that it's impossible to tell if one of them was administered involuntarily. So, he either took care of the problem for them or LDS helped Thresh to his final high."

"So it's all tied up – your Menendez case closes because of Barrington's letter and there are two 'suicides' in the morgue. To avoid joining them, the sister will stay silent. I'm sorry, Kate," Castle consoles her.

"It's closure, but not justice," Beckett laments. "This all started with Barrington's actions against Menendez's sister, and she's left under threat by LDS and with her brother dead. And LDS protects itself by at least encouraging if not orchestrating two more deaths."

"We'll keep an eye on them," Castle says, "but we should be wary. And I need to call Jennings to give him a heads up on what happened, tell him to watch himself."

Beckett releases a frustrated sigh. "I want to be back on the right side of the looking glass, Castle. I don't want to live in a world where conspiracies can bully people into killing themselves, where they provide a haven to killers and adulterers, where they might include people I know and respect professionally. And this is just one group in New York! It kind of puts our other project into perspective," she says, alluding to their efforts relating to Bracken.

"Kate, do you remember what I said about my dinner with Sheila?" Castle asks, but doesn't wait for a response. "'Always the optimist.' I'm not sure I'm that way by nature, but I've found that I like myself, my life better when I choose to see the good side of things. Conspiracies, excoriating book reviews, flighty or intrusive ex-wives, partners who pretend to have forgotten heartfelt but poorly timed confessions of love – these things can get you down if you let them. It doesn't mean that there aren't good reasons, good people out there."

"Castle, I …" Beckett starts, but isn't sure how to continue given the unrelated and unanticipated bomb that he just dropped on her head.

"Don't worry, Beckett," Castle laughs. "I'm not going to bust your chops about it now. I just needed to shock you a little bit. You've run into something dark and depressing. You're in the pits now, but I know you. I know that you'll turn your anguish from this case into motivation. I know that it doesn't help Menendez's sister. But using it to help fuel justice for someone else is still a good thing. A beautiful thing."

"Thank you, Rick," Beckett says, choked up both by his faith in her and for his defusing the reckoning about his graveyard confession that was becoming an increasing weight on her. "Like you said before, I didn't realize I needed to hear that, but I feel better now."

"My pleasure, Kate," Castle says sincerely. "What are you doing this weekend?" Switching to a playful voice, he continues. "A bunch of the Feds-in-training are going dancing tomorrow night. I was thinking about writing, but I could show you a move or two if you wanted to come down."

"That sounds wonderful, Castle, but my dad and I are heading up to his cabin in the morning. Your, um, comments from the other night made me realize that I could do with spending a little more time with him," Beckett confesses. "Maybe next weekend?"

"Sorry, Beckett, but I'm spoken for next weekend," Castle crows a bit.

Screw this, Beckett thinks. He wants some signal of things to come? Time to figure out where things stand. "With Britton?" she asks directly.

"No, not Dani," chuckles Castle. "A beautiful redhead that I know. Stunning blue eyes, with a California tan."

"Meredith?" asks Beckett with a coy smile.

"No! Good lord, Kate, bite your tongue," comes Castle's affronted response.

"Oh, but Rick, what if I'd rather bite yours?" Beckett purrs, thoroughly enjoying kicking the banter up a notch. She feels wild and a little dangerous, vastly different than her mood just ten minutes ago.

"You know, Kate," Castle says in a smooth voice, playing along, "your 'Bite me, Castle' rejoinders are going to invoke an entirely new set of images from now on."

"I'm sure that your new images will be no more lascivious than the ones they replace," Beckett hums.

"I will do … nearly anything, if you'll say that word, that way, again," Castle rumbles in her ear.

God, she misses this, misses him. Maybe she should just tell him that, she thinks. "When are you going to get your ass back up here?" Hmmm, not exactly the most alluring way to reach out, she realizes.

"I'll be back a week from Sunday," he replies. "I wasn't kidding – Alexis is flying from LA to DC on Saturday, so that we can spend some time together before her school vacation ends. It's one of the reasons I drove down, so that we could have the time together on the drive back. She usually needs a little extra attention when she comes back from visiting Meredith."

"That's sweet, Rick," Beckett says. "We girls always need some time with our dads."

"Yeah?" Castle asks. "I'm glad to hear that she might not grow out of it."

"Speaking of girls who want to spend time with you…" Beckett drawls out, taking the opportunity to divert the conversation.

"Oh, this sounds good! Tell me, who's queued up?" Castle asks, and Beckett can see his eyebrows wiggle in her mind's eye as she hears him clap and rub his hands together.

"Captain Gates, of course. Why, who did you think I was talking about?" Beckett asks with false naivety. "She ventured out of her office and into the bullpen to ask if we knew what you were up to. She didn't look pleased to hear that you were at Quantico. She wants you to give her a call. There might be something to your crazy theory and prediction after all."

"Please, Beckett, there's always something to my crazy theories. Well, almost always. Sometimes?" he chuckles as he rolls back without prompting. "At least occasionally. That's as low as I'll go."

"'Occasionally' works, maybe 'sometimes' on a good day, though I'll never admit to saying it," Beckett smiles.

"So, Captain Gates is looking for me, eh? Interesting that she appears out of the loop on the FBI side of things," Castle muses.

"We were thinking the same thing. If she was put up to the press conference, it looks like she doesn't know why. It's some support for your other theory – it would've needed to be an order or request from someone up the chain for her to have done it without knowing why," Beckett answers.

"Unless, of course, this is all wrong and she just threw me under the bus figuratively because she hasn't yet found a way to do it literally," he says with another chuckle.

"That's always a possibility," Beckett agrees, "but that suspect pool would be more like an ocean."

"Nice, Beckett. Actually, since we're in the neighborhood, can I ask you something about our other project?" Castle starts tentatively. "I don't want to spoil the mood, but I do want us to get comfortable talking about this, working together on the most important project."

"Yeah, Castle, you can. It's something I've been thinking about, too, and I want to try to do this right," Beckett notes. "It's something I need to get comfortable with."

"Maybe this can be a place to start. Well, you've probably already thought about it, so this might be nothing but me playing catch-up. There was an early line of thought that I followed but it got me nowhere, and I'm wondering if I didn't give up too soon, or looked in the wrong place," Castle says.

"I'm all ears, Castle," Beckett replies. "We're on the burner phones and I'm alone in the storage room."

"It's about the two dealmakers," Castle says obliquely. "We know why the first one didn't go public with the information. But why didn't the second?" Beckett nods, having thought about this same question: why did Smith make the elaborate deal, rather than simply turn the files over to the authorities, even anonymously?

"Maybe out of fear of retribution?" Beckett speculates, "Or maybe for the same reason as his predecessor – he's involved, or would be compromised if it went public."

"I've been thinking the same thing, especially the latter point," Castle replies. "But everyone else we know who was involved with the first dealmaker is out of the picture. And if they weren't out of the picture, they would be an obvious target. So, who would have been close enough to see what was going on, potentially be tainted by it, but still be outside the notice of the chief?"

"It's something I've been thinking about, too," Beckett confirms. And she has. Who is Smith that Roy would have trusted him, that he'd be willing to strike the deal with Bracken, the "chief," to keep Beckett safe, but wouldn't be willing to act directly against the chief?

"I know we're supposed to start with the largest suspect pool and winnow down from there," Castle says, "or at least that's what my fancy federal manual suggests. But I've been thinking that the opposite approach might work better for us."

"Of course you have, contrarian," Beckett laughs.

"A-hem. Anyway, we can't boil the ocean, and there are too many unknowns to take the conventional approach. I was thinking about working bottoms up rather than top down," Castle suggests.

"So, we target specific individuals and build up from there? No, not people," Beckett corrects herself, "but groups."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. We have at least four groups that seem like potential starting points for dealmaker number two. The precinct," Castle starts.

"The DA's office," Beckett continues.

"The public defender's office," Castle says.

"And criminal defense law firms," Beckett concludes.

"Exactly," Castle responds, sounding happy that they're treading the same path. "There are other possibilities – the media, court personnel, someone that intersected on the personal rather than work side, probably more. But I think the four we have are the most likely."

"Which means we should start with the public defender's office?" Beckett suggests. "Like you said earlier, it's hard to imagine that the new dealmaker would be unknown to the chief if he was in the DA's office. And we've run low on precinct survivors," she continues with some remorse. "And given his lack of seniority at the time, it's more likely that Montgomery was dealing with appointed counsel rather than expensive defense attorneys."

"How good is Tori?" Castle asks.

"Are you thinking that we should hack in to get the old personnel files rather than request them? That's probably a good idea, except that it brings her into our group and puts her at risk, too," Beckett says. "Maybe I could have Espo feel her out."

"That's really not a good choice of words to use there, Kate," Castle suggests.

"What? Why wouldn't… Are you serious? Espo and Tori?" Beckett asks. Oh, this wouldn't be good. She doesn't know if Lanie knows, if she cares, or if she's on or off with Esposito these days. And what about Elena Martinez, whom Esposito had been checking out? Maybe they _are_ living on Temptation Lane.

"I don't know that it isn't anything more than a mutual admiration society right now," Castle says. "Turns out it _is_ pretty easy to spot when you're not one of the people involved," he laughs.

"Presumptuous," Beckett chuffs, and Castle laughs again.

"Anyway, maybe you should ask the boys about Tori when they're together. I know some guys who could hack in for us, but I'm not sure that I'd trust them to stay quiet afterwards. If Tori can do it and is willing, she'd be the better choice," Castle suggests.

"Okay, I'll bring it up when we're in a good place to talk about it," Beckett agrees.

"Thanks, Kate," Castle says with a tone of genuine gratitude.

"For what?" Beckett replies. "For working on my own case?"

"No, for working it like a regular case, for working with me and thinking about bringing in the help we need. I wasn't sure about whether I should hope for this to go smoothly," Castle admits. "But I'm encouraged. This feels right."

"It does, Rick, it does," she confirms. What surprises her is that she doesn't need to exert any Herculean effort to share her thoughts on this case, or to fight back her instinct to blaze ahead alone. The eruptions Friday night and the conversation on Saturday feel like a turning point for her, and she's tentatively optimistic about making things work, both for her case and herself.

"Are you going to mention any of this to your dad?" Castle asks with some trepidation.

"No. It's too early and would only put him at risk," Beckett says, and realizes that her willingness to share ends with Castle and her precinct family. "We're just going to have a quiet weekend to unplug and reconnect."

"That sounds perfect, Kate," Castle says. "Take a weekend to just enjoy each other's company. Let me know if you need anything, otherwise I'll do some studying and get some writing done so I can have the same kind of time with Alexis next weekend."

* * *

**Saturday, ~9:30 PM**

"Castle," he answers, sounding a little tired.

"Hey, Castle," Beckett says softly. "You busy dancing?"

"Nope, I was social yesterday," Castle responds, "Today's been a long day of just studying and writing, but I'm slowing down, kind of stuck for tonight." Even though he's alone, his voice lowers to match Beckett's tone. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. Good, even," Beckett says. "We had a good day. Dad's turned in, so I'm trying to not wake him. How's the novel coming?"

"Really well. Or, at least it feels like it. The words are flowing, as to whether they're any good, I'm still too close to it to tell. But it feels like I'm making progress," he replies with uncharacteristic humility.

"I'm not going to ask any questions about it, but only because I don't want to ruin any surprises," Beckett says. "I'm looking forward to reading it."

"You're already down for the first pre-production copy. It's in the contract with Davison," Castle says. How ridiculous, Beckett thinks, that a line item on a book contract nearly brings tears to her eyes.

"Thank you, Rick," she says, hoping that her voice conveys how touched she is by his gesture, especially since he set it up before their recent discussion. "I should go – we're going for an early hike in the morning. But I wanted to do this right this time."

"Do what right?" Castle asks, confused.

"I told you I'd call you. I didn't think it would take this long, and I didn't mean for it to happen this way. But, like I said before, I'm trying to get better and you deserve better," she says in a quiet but insistent voice. "So, I wanted to call you from the cabin to tell you that I'm doing well and that I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

"That's … thank you." Castle says warmly, though he also sounds rushed for some reason. Beckett wonders if she's overstepped, until his parting shot. "Go get some rest, Kate. It turns out that I'm good for at least another chapter tonight."

* * *

.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

.

* * *

**Monday ~8:15 AM**

"We need to steer clear of Gates today?" Ryan says as he nods towards the Captain's office as Beckett makes her way from the elevator toward her desk.

"Why?" Beckett asks, wondering what Ryan's question presages for the week.

"If you're asking, then you must not have seen this," Ryan says, as he holds up a folded newspaper that Beckett takes while walking by. Sitting down, she flattens the paper on her desk. It's from the front page of the _New York Times' _Business Day section

_**By Tysha Steinem. **NEW YORK CITY – Authorities froze the assets of _  
_an additional twelve foreign and domestic ancillary bank accounts_  
_linked to the ongoing investigation of disgraced financier Leonard_  
_Cartwright, III. This action brings to 32 the total number of accounts_  
_frozen since Mr. Cartwright's initial court case ended in mistrial sever-_  
_al weeks ago, with total assets estimated at $117.3 million._

_"Our investigators will not rest until we have located all of the accounts_  
_in which Mr. Cartwright tried to hide and launder the money he stole_  
_from those who trusted him," said Dorothy Evers of the U.S. Securities_  
_and Exchange Commission._

_Disagreeing with Ms. Evers' characterization of the current investigation_  
_as a "recovery action," the New York City District Attorney's Office con-_  
_firmed that it continues to build its case against Mr. Cartwright on other_  
_criminal grounds including tampering, extortion, and fraud._

_"Even if Mr. Cartwright enters a plea on his federal financial malfeasance_  
_charges," notes Assistant District Attorney Allan Carver, "the City will _  
_not relent in seeking justice for those he harmed in other ways. We con-_  
_tinue to build our case and prepare for trial."_

_ADA Carver was asked if those efforts included securing the testimony_  
_of Mr. Richard Castle, whose participation in the events leading to Cart-_  
_wright's mistrial has been a subject of dispute. "Everyone who played a _  
_pivotal role in this investigation will contribute to our prosecution, and _  
_that certainly includes Mr. Castle." When prompted to address why Cap-_  
_tain Victoria Gates of the NYPD's 12th Precinct characterized Mr. Castle's _  
_participation differently following Mr. Cartwright's mistrial, ADA Carver _  
_offered no comment._

...

This isn't going to go over well with Gates, Beckett realizes. Even if she was just following orders at the press conference, and even if whoever made those orders holds her harmless for the media's assertions, she's still the public face of this fiasco for the NYPD. Beckett is surprised to find herself feeling some sympathy for Gates, and realizes that this would be an effective way for someone up the chain to prompt Gates to commit career suicide: tell her to make the comments at the press conference, then sack her when the resulting furor in the press questions her capabilities.

**Be careful with Gates, bad NYT article **Beckett texts to Castle wanting to make sure that he doesn't walk into a buzz saw if he calls her later today. She's just secured her phone when the elevator ding catches her attention. Looking up and expecting to see Esposito, she quickly schools her features when it is FBI Agent Daniel Wilson who steps out instead. Beckett mentally prepares herself to engage in a collegial conversation with Wilson, but he blows right by her and Ryan on his way to Gates' office.

While he knocks and gains entrance, Esposito sidles in from the stairwell. "Saw him getting on the elevator and didn't want to ride up with him," he explains. "What's going on?"

"Too early to tell," Ryan answers. "It might be about the _Times_ article that called her out about Castle's relevance to the Cartwright case. Or maybe something else." Lowering his voice, he articulates the question that's on all of their minds. "Is Castle okay?"

Deciding to risk it, Beckett pulls out her phone, sending another quick message: **You okay? FBI visitor here**. That should be harmless enough she thinks. Technically, she shouldn't be communicating with Castle during his suspension, but this is pretty innocuous and she wants a quick response.

She's happy to receive a reply almost immediately. **I'm fine, at breakfast. No worries.** Using the code they've developed, she knows that the "no worries" sign-off means that he'll call on the burner during his lunch break shortly after 11:30.

Deciding to look as unassuming as possible, the detectives go through their morning routine. With no open case right now, they turn to lingering paperwork. It's a day that Castle would typically skip or use to drive her crazy, but Beckett smiles as she recalls the he owes her a solid hour of best-behavior the next time he's here for this, in return for coffee she brought while he was watching Brooke at the precinct. Sure, he's brought her tens or hundreds more, but that doesn't mean she'll let go of her IOU. It'll be worth it just to watch him squirm while trying to not misbehave.

Her ruminations are interrupted by Wilson's departure. Again, he breezes to the elevator without breaking stride to pass his regards, fake or not, to the detectives with whom he recently worked. As he boards the elevator, Gates' voice sounds from directly behind Beckett.

"Detective Beckett," Gates begins, then pauses. "I'd like to talk to you. I notice that in Mr. Castle's absence, you are without coffee. Perhaps we could talk while we visit the shop?"

"Certainly, sir," Beckett thinks, mind spinning. This request is unprecedented. More, Gates has gone out of her way to avoid situations like this, to avoid what might be remotely considered fraternizing. Though they are pretending to be absorbed in their work, Beckett can tell from their body language that Ryan and Esposito have also noticed the deviation in behavior. Grabbing her pocketbook, Beckett falls into step with the Captain, who remains silent as they descend the stairs and exit the building.

They are half-way to the shop when Gates speaks. "Detective Beckett, I've just received a formal complaint from Agent Wilson regarding your 'interference' with Mr. Castle during his training at Quantico," Gates starts. "This complaint also noted that your recent work with Mr. Castle during his suspension countermands my orders and should result in disciplinary action."

Beckett remains silent, though her mind is racing. But, there is something in Gates' voice that suggests she might not be in the perilous position that's being painted at present.

"I don't care for others telling me how to run my precinct," Gates begins, "and I'm even less willing to tolerate interference from outside the NYPD. And while I might not be happy about detectives who disobey orders," she says while looking Beckett in the eye, "I find a few other aspects of my meeting more troubling."

Silence having paid well so far, Beckett decides to wait for Gates to continue. No use denying what's already known, or defending her actions if she's not being called to account for them.

"Is Mr. Castle looking to officially join the FBI?" Gates asks point-blank, eviscerating Beckett's plan for silence.

Playing a hunch, Beckett decides to roll the dice and try honesty. Mostly. "I know he's down there and enjoying his time," Beckett says, "but when we've talked about his future plans, they haven't included anything official. As far as I know, he's looking forward to returning to the precinct when his suspension is complete."

Nodding, Gates holds open the door to the shop. The two remain silent while in the bustling café, place their orders, and wait for the baristas to finish their work. Only upon exiting does the conversation resume.

"I note the coincidence between when Mr. Castle took 'a break' from his FBI training and the subsequent movement on a case that had seemed stalled," Gates begins, and Beckett braces herself for the direct question of Castle's involvement. There will be ramifications for a lie, but she's not willing to provide the truth.

"It's a good thing that I'm an investigator and deal with evidence, rather than coincidence," Gates says. "And as an investigator, I find myself focused in a different direction. I wonder, for example, how someone would presume to know about who works on our cases. I also wonder who is privy to our internal decisions about suspensions and discipline."

Beckett can hardly believe her ears. Not only is Gates not going after her for bringing Castle in on the Menendez case, but she's openly questioning information leaks that presumably led to Wilson's appearance in the precinct this morning. Unless Beckett is mistaken, Gates is telling her that there's something bigger going on, and that she needs to tread carefully. This might just be sour grapes from the press conference fallout like this morning's article, but it feels different.

"Something to ponder, Detective," Gates offers for a parting shot as they re-enter the precinct.

* * *

**Monday, ~11:40 AM**

"What do you think, Kate?" Castle asks, "Was she acting on her own or was this coordinated with Wilson or someone else?"

Beckett ponders the question as she takes in her surroundings. Concerned that their storage room location might have been compromised, the detectives opted to take Castle's call from a seedy bar about four blocks from the precinct. It's hardly a popular lunch destination and the patrons that subscribe to the "it's five o'clock somewhere" philosophy are already too incoherent to pose a security risk. Plus, Esposito physically blocking anyone from approaching the corner table is a useful deterrent. Ryan's badge on the table before him provides their third line of "don't screw with us" defense.

Speaking into the handset, Beckett replies. "I think she's tired of being caught in the middle. She's happy that we breached your suspension to solve the case, which suggests to me that she's not passionate about enforcing your suspension. And one other thing: she clearly said that Wilson complained, not that the FBI complained."

"Interesting," Castle says, thinking about the potential that Gates focused on Wilson. "She didn't seem opposed to the idea of me returning to the precinct?" Castle asks with what Beckett hopes is a note of optimism.

"I don't think so, but it was hard to tell, I'm afraid. It might just be that she's happy the Feds don't have their hooks into you yet," Beckett replies honestly.

"Well, if she's not opposed, then it might mean that there's a difference between the actual suspension and what she'd be willing to overlook," Castle says. "The problem with skirting the suspension, though, is that it would mean that I'm not working my way into the FBI, which might disrupt Bob's plan."

"You mean the plan that he's never told you about, never asked you to participate in?" Beckett replies sharply. "Sorry, Castle, I don't mean that to bite at you, I'm just frustrated that you seem to be getting jerked around for a plan that doesn't seem fully baked. It shouldn't have been that hard for Weldon to clue you into his plan."

"Don't worry about me, Kate, I can handle it," Castle replies. "I'll just keep going down here and we'll play it by ear when I get back." After a brief pause, Castle continues. "Actually, there might be something odd going on down here. One of the instructors made reference to the exams later this week."

"Exams? I thought you were just sitting in on classes," Beckett asks.

"So did I," Castle replies. "And the others here don't have anything on the schedule, so it looks like this might be some private testing for me. I'm weeks away from being qualified to take any actual exams, and I'm still getting my ass handed to me in the defense drills, so I don't know what's on the agenda."

"I don't like the sounds of this, Castle. First, Wilson is poking around up here, and now it sounds like you're getting diverted from the program down there … please, be careful," Beckett asks in a surprisingly shy voice.

"Kate, I'm looking forward to coming back to New York. I'm not going to let some exams hold me back," he says warmly.

"Good," Kate says directly, worried that too much soft talking will draw Ryan's attention. Thankfully, Esposito is still playing guard several yards away.

"What about communication?" Castle asks. "Are we concerned that Wilson got any of his information from us, via phone or location or bug?"

"We don't know, Castle," Beckett answers. "We talked about it up here, but it's hard to know. Maybe we should minimize the calls this week and switch the locations when we call. This'll be easier when you get back. Plus, we can still send innocuous texts with our regular phones."

"Yeah, that probably makes sense," Castle agrees, "though I'll miss your dulcet tones."

Beckett's about to reply when Castle interjects with "Oh crap."

"What's up, Castle," Beckett asks with some alarm.

"I'm an idiot, that's what's up," Castle replies, sounding worried. Beckett's raised eyebrows catch Ryan's attention. "I overlooked something basic. You remember the picture we looked at with our two friends in it, the school picture?" Castle asks.

Beckett thinks back to the picture from Breckenridge Prep that they inspected during the contentious night in the conference room, an electronic copy of which is on the flash drive that Castle provided then. "I remember, but I don't have it with me," Beckett answers.

"You don't need the picture, just the recollection. How many of the kids in that picture," Castle asks, "are the scions of wealthy, established families? Families that have at least three generations of success?"

"Oh, damn," Beckett repeats, causing Ryan to look even more inquisitive from the other side of the table. He's also starting to look highly irritated as a result of only hearing Beckett's half of the conversation.

"That might be the more plausible explanation for how he knew what we were up to. We'll look into it. We can't go through LDS, but we can at least look back at the family histories to see if they look like potential members," Beckett says while Ryan nods, having clued into the issue.

"Okay. I guess we should still limit our calls this week, just in case," Castle says, sounding disappointed. "How about Thursday night at 10? We can use the code words if we need to talk before then."

"Okay, Castle, see if you can stay out of trouble until then," Beckett teases, though they both know that there is a serious undercurrent to her words.

"Try not to miss me, Kate," Castle challenges.

"Don't worry, Castle, you've made yourself redundant. If that happens, I'll just pick up one of your books," Beckett says.

"I recommend page 105 of _Heat Wave_," Castle whisper-growls in her ear as he disconnects the call.

Damn him, she thinks with a small smile as Ryan clearly notices her blush.

* * *

**Thursday, ~10:00 PM**

"Hey Castle," Beckett says as she answers the burner phone. She's in an enclosed study carrel at Columbia's engineering library, having blatantly abused her credentials to gain entry.

"Hi Beckett," Castle says, sounding exhausted.

"You sound rough, Castle. Been too long since college for you to suffer through exams again?" she asks, trying to set a nice, light tone for the call.

"I never had exams like these in college," Castle sighs. "And I've got a few more hours left tomorrow."

"Tell me about it?" Beckett invites.

"It's basically been a deposition, or an interrogation. I was in a chair in front of a panel of five people, three agents and two shrinks. And they hammered me with questions for eight hours," Castle sighs again. "About a third of the time was casework – examples from past cases that I've studied. Another third was hypothetical – case studies, I guess they'd be considered, literally. The last third was the worst. They have files from some of our cases. It was a litany of second guessing the decisions made during those cases and questioning the consequences of those decisions."

"They have our cases? How did they get those? What did they ask you?" Beckett's afire with questions.

"Half the difficulty was that I don't trust them – it was bad enough getting the questions, but I had to worry about what I told them when I answered," Castle says, and Beckett nods on her end of the phone. She's glad that he allayed her concern that the testing was a ruse to collect information on them.

"The worst, though, was dwelling on all of the failures – why did I miss my chance at Dunn, why didn't I figure out Tyson's play sooner, why didn't I prevent Tyson from taking Ryan's weapon, why did it take me so long to figure out Kitty's counterfeiting operation, how could I let myself get locked in a refrigerator, how many times have I been drugged or otherwise incapacitated…" Castle trails off, clearly demoralized.

"Rick, that sounds awful," Beckett commiserates. "What were they trying to do? Don't listen to those bastards. You did well on those cases, you do well on all of our cases. We might be guilty of not telling you that along the way, but you can't let some armchair quarterbacks second-guess situations that they never saw, never experienced."

"Thanks, Kate," Castle says, sounding slightly cheered. "I think I held my own and brushed them back a few times," this last bit was accompanied by a slightly evil laugh. "Still, I'm glad it's over. I think tomorrow is going to be a change of pace, maybe some time on the mat."

"Do you know exactly why you're being tested?" Beckett asks the obvious question.

"No idea," Castle laughs. "For kicks and giggles, maybe. Or hazing. I guess I'll find out tomorrow afternoon."

"And then you get to spend some time with your daughter," Beckett reminds him to cheer him up.

"Definitely looking forward to that. Tell Ryan that we're having dinner with Paddy Moloney. See if he actually turns green with envy," Castle teases.

"Who is she?" Beckett asks, curious.

"Philistine," Castle chides. "Paddy's a he, the founder of The Chieftans, the greatest Irish musical group of all time. Mother introduced me years ago and we keep in touch. He's performing at Strathmore, just north of DC, and we're going to hook up for dinner on Saturday night before his show."

"Sounds like fun. Are you going to go all Riverdance on me, Castle?" Beckett asks with a smirk.

"Not really my style, Kate, but I'm game if you are," he challenges in response, and Beckett grins at the image.

"You up for a slight topic change?" Beckett asks. "We heard about your tests, so maybe we should talk about my homework."

"Does Gates have you studying, too?" Castle asks.

"Nope, this is from Dr. Burke," Beckett answers, knowing that she's got Castle's attention even though she can't see him.

"He gives you _homework_? That's just not right," Castle laughs.

"I don't know, Castle, I think I asked for it this week," Beckett says coyly. "I think I really knocked him for a loop today."

"Do tell," Castle says with curiosity. "If you're comfortable with it, that is," he fumbles.

Laughing a bit, Beckett's happy to talk. "The poor guy. He was still greeting me when I pulled your trick of wanding him for listening devices. I could just picture him diagnosing paranoid delusions and ordering a psych hold."

"I take it from your good humor that you didn't find anything," Castle assumes.

"True," Beckett replies, "but I still made us go for a walk for our session. It actually made him a little uncomfortable, which I'm not sure I'd expected to see."

"So, anyway, we start walking and I laid it out as directly as I could: that you think you discovered who's behind my mom's case, how I accused you of betraying me, fought to go it alone, offended you _and_ the boys, questioned your dedication to writing, and left with things so terrible between us. Oh, and that you somehow saw through my lie about your graveside declaration, which is a topic we've discussed several times," Beckett confesses, laying things out in as damning a fashion as she'd used in her talk with Burke.

"Did he think he was being pranked?" Castle asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"He might have, except my tone made it clear that I was serious," she says, sobering slightly. "He's very good – he didn't react, verbally or physically, but I could still see that he was disappointed. Worried."

"But, Kate," Castle interjects, not comfortable with the recriminatory nature of the conversation.

"But then," Beckett interrupts, "I told him about where we went from there. I might not have handled Friday's conversations well, but Saturday went better, didn't it?"

"Absolutely," Castle confirms, "and it wasn't easy, especially after some of the harsh things I said on Friday."

"Funny, Burke said the same thing. I think he was surprised by what I did on Saturday. Maybe I should be offended that he was surprised that I addressed my mistakes head-on…" Beckett tails off, but with a smile in her voice.

"I'm sure he was impressed," Castle offers. "I know I was."

"He might have been impressed by me, but he was certainly impressed by you," Beckett says. "Way to kiss ass with the therapist, Castle, suggesting a joint session," Beckett teases.

"Yeah, because of the two of us, _I'm_ more likely to be the teacher's pet?" Castle laughs. "I'm _still_ the class clown."

"You don't fool me, Rick," Beckett replies. "I know when you're clowning to deflect, and I know when you're using humor to deliver hints or suggestions that might not otherwise be well received. I'm figuring you out, Mr. Mystery Writer."

"Never, Beckett," Castle challenges. "You'll never figure me out."

"We'll see, Rick," Beckett answers. "You've been so preoccupied with my walls that I'm not sure you've noticed me sneaking around yours."

"Was this your homework, to issue a personal challenge that you can't win? Are you guys exploring the nature of accepting that which cannot be overcome?" Castle taunts.

"Rick, do you really think it's a good idea to start a contest that encourages us to hold out against each other?" Beckett asks.

"Hmmmm. That's a good point. I might've gotten a little carried away there," Castle admits with a soft chuckle. "So, tell me what your homework was?"

"Just to tell you about our conversation," Beckett replies. "As you mentioned on the bench, we're not very good at talking directly about deeper issues yet. So, my homework was a nudge to start working on that."

"Gold star for you, Kate," Castle praises. "I feel like such a slacker in comparison."

Laughing, Beckett can't believe how good she feels in this moment. There might actually be something to this theory of direct communication. "Yeah, Castle, you were clearly slacking in bringing these issues to the forefront, to get us actually talking about the future."

"Did you tell Burke who we're up against?" Castle asks, diverting the conversation with a voice turned serious.

"No," Beckett said. "I told him that I wasn't sure that I wanted to live with the concern that he might be imperiled by knowing. He was curious, probably thinking about paranoia again, so I provided some general details – rich, powerful, connected, and very high profile. And guess what he asked," Beckett's inflection rises to indicate a question.

"If you could start seeing a different doctor?" says Castle.

"Ass," Beckett huffs. "No, he asked if that's why you're dallying with the FBI."

"Your doctor's a pretty sharp guy," Castle replies. "Now I'm more concerned about meeting him."

"Don't worry, Castle, I'll protect you," Beckett teases.

"You always do, Kate." Castle replies.

* * *

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	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: Down below

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* * *

**Friday, ~8:30 AM**

"Anything from Castle?" Ryan asks as Beckett settles into her desk.

"He's coming back on Sunday with Alexis," Beckett replies, noting that both Ryan and Esposito are looking at her for an update. "She's going to meet him in DC for a concert after dinner with Paddy Moloney on Saturday night."

"What? He knows Paddy Moloney? Do you think he'd introduce us?" Ryan replies eagerly, while Beckett laughs and wonders if it's her imagination that makes Kevin appear slightly green.

"You think Gates will call him in early, end his suspension?" Esposito asks. "I should have made a bet with him about that …," he trails off, realizing that he doesn't want to talk about bets around Beckett.

"They talked earlier this week. Nothing definite, but they were going to talk again today, I think," Beckett replies, trying to walk the line between providing information and making it obvious that she's been talking and texting with Castle quite a bit over the last week.

"I hope he gets back soon," Ryan says. "I keep burning my hand on his coffee machine."

While Esposito starts to abuse his partner for a general lack of manliness, the elevator arrives and disgorges Captain Gates, accompanied by an enormous bald man in a beautifully tailored suit.

As they walk towards Gates' office, Esposito mumbles "What's with Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"You _do_ know Potter!" Ryan replies in an affronted tone.

"'Course I do, bro, who said I didn't?" Esposito replies to Ryan's sputter.

"Detective Beckett, join us please," Gates calls out from her office. The visitor is still standing when Beckett enters the office. "Detective Beckett, this is Assistant Director Paul Sampson. He heads the FBI's New York field office." After shaking hands and exchanging greetings, they all sit, with Gates' having come out from behind her desk to sit in the open with Beckett and Sampson.

"The floor is yours, Mr. Sampson," Gates says, turning to her visitor.

"Thank you, Captain Gates," Sampson says in a deep, resonant voice. "I appreciate you both taking the time to meet with me this morning. I'd like to talk to you about how we can work together going forward, borrowing Mr. Castle and perhaps using him as a bridge between our staff and yours."

"That's an interesting proposition, Mr. Sampson," Gates begins, "But it's one that I've heard before, recently even, and the process hasn't exactly gone smoothly. Why don't you tell us what you had in mind."

"Certainly," replies Sampson with equanimity. "Captain Gates, I don't think you've had the opportunity to meet my colleague Jordan Shaw?" At Gates' head shake, he continues. "As you probably know, Jordan had an opportunity to work with Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle on a case a few years ago. She left impressed by your work, Detective, and by Mr. Castle's contributions."

"When Mr. Castle visited with her after the Cartwright case, Jordan kept an eye on his performance while at Quantico. At her recommendation, he was pulled out of the standard program yesterday to undergo the testing that we use to screen potential candidates for the behavioral sciences unit, the profilers. To everyone's surprise save Jordan's, Mr. Castle performed very well."

"Why was that a surprise?" Beckett asks, with what she hopes is curiosity rather than defensiveness.

"My apologies, Detective, I do not mean to slight Mr. Castle. Nonetheless, his performance was unexpected. He is untrained. Even active agents study and prepare for months, not weeks, when they know the tests are coming. Mr. Castle had little advance warning and could not anticipate the rigors of the testing process," Sampson begins.

"He's also Richard Castle. A perusal of the Page Six archive would hardly lead one to believe that he could be a stable contributor to the cases that our profilers typically encounter. Yes, I know," Sampson continues while raising his hands in a placating gesture, anticipating the objections that both Gates and Beckett were about to voice, "that at least a portion of those stories are fabrications, exaggerations, or tactical promotional orchestrations. But look at his history – broken home, itinerant mother, multiple school expulsions, wealth and fame at a young age, wrecked marriages. He's a mess. Or, perhaps he _was_ a mess. Or a high-functioning mess," he ends with a deep chuckle.

"But despite all that, or maybe because of it, he seems to connect well with people," Sampson says. "He is exceptionally observant and can empathize quickly, which are key skills for our profilers. It's probably contributed to his writing success, too. All I know is that he impressed our evaluators, and that's very difficult to do."

"Where do we come in?" asks Gates, prompting the discussion forward.

"We'd like to make some investments in Mr. Castle, explore the possibility of him consulting with our profiling teams on cases that might benefit from his participation," Sampson explains. "We haven't yet sat down with him to talk about this prospect in particular, but just in his time at Quantico Mr. Castle has made a few things clear: he's not willing to endure significant travel before his daughter leaves for college, he's not willing to let go of his writing career, and he enjoys working with Detective Beckett's team here at the 12th."

Though she's felt a little at sea during this meeting, Beckett is cheered. Leave it to Castle to boil his life down to three succinct priorities: Alexis, writing, and her. Maybe by "the 12th" he meant working with her on cases, but she's going to bet that working the cases is ancillary, despite the questions that Burke had asked her to think about.

"Why do I feel like you're selling a time-share condo?" Gates asks with some asperity.

"Nice analogy," responds Sampson affably. "I don't think we're looking for anything onerous. What I'd propose is this: you let us have Mr. Castle next week, which I've heard, unofficially, is a week he was not supposed to be here anyway. We'll sit him down with profilers, and Jordan will come out from Chicago."

"And after next week?" Gates prompts.

"After next week, we play it by ear. If we have a case that might benefit from his participation or be a good training run, and Detective Beckett's team doesn't need him, then we'll pull him over. If things are busy here, we'll wait for the next shot," Sampson says. "We just don't want to invest in his training if we'll never get to deploy him on a case."

"Shouldn't Castle be a part of this discussion?" Beckett interjects, feeling a little guilty for making decisions affecting his future after their fight about the deal he made with Mr. Smith.

"He will be," Sampson said. "Right now, we're just trying to figure out if we can envision a way to make this work. If we can't, then there's not much point in bringing him in, since I think we all know what he'd choose. But," he pauses and gives them both a serious look, "you should know that I'd still make a pitch for him, and it would be pretty damned compelling."

"Better than Agent Wilson's?" Beckett asks, risking a direct approach to provoke a reaction.

"Dan Wilson?" Sampson asks, seeming a little confused. "From Public Corruption? I can appreciate his interest, but that wouldn't be a good use of Mr. Castle. No, I'm sure that Violent Crime is a better fit for Mr. Castle, as it includes both the kidnapping and serial cases for which he's demonstrated an aptitude."

Very interesting, Beckett thinks, though maybe a little on the nose. How nice for a homicidal senator to have a pet in the Corruption area of the FBI.

"Detective Beckett," Gates says to draw her attention and give her the floor, "what are your thoughts on AD Sampson's proposal?"

"Castle and I have had to work hard to forge a real partnership over the years, and it wasn't easy. One of the ways in which we clashed was in making assumptions about the other, making decisions without consultation. So, my first reaction is that I will not speak for him, and I'm not even comfortable that we're here to divide his time without his participation," Beckett starts.

"Aside from that, I find him an asset to our team and to the precinct," Beckett says, realizing that she's enjoying this little speech. She might not have gotten to speak her mind when challenging Gates over Castle's suspension, but she has the chance now. "We're better with him here. If he wants to split his time I'll support his decision, but aside from his personal satisfaction, I don't see how this is anything other than a net loss for us."

"I'm inclined to agree," notes Gates, surprising Beckett by how readily she makes this point, "and that's assuming that getting pulled in two directions doesn't affect his efficiency on the NYPD or FBI cases."

"I can appreciate your concerns," says Sampson smoothly, "and I have a potential solution. What if we called our arrangement a joint task force? Homeland Security has funding grants available to facilitate innovative programs to integrate different law enforcement agencies. If we could craft something that we both find agreeable, it might be a way for us to create a group with your detectives, my agents, and Mr. Castle. Some extra funding and kudos from Homeland wouldn't go amiss, would they?"

Beckett can tell that Gates is interested even before she speaks. Better not play poker with Castle, she thinks of Gates, he'll fleece you and there will be even more resentment between the two of you than there is now.

"That's an intriguing possibility," says Gates, to Sampson's smile. "I'd have to run it past a few people, of course, but it sounds like the kind of thing that will capture the Commissioner's interest. While we test the possibility, I'll refrain from inviting Mr. Castle to the precinct next week. Just recognize that I had planned to bring him in, but will defer to your interest in the hopes that we can work out a mutually-beneficial option going forward."

"I'll email you the details from Homeland and some suggestions about structure," Sampson says as he rises from his chair. "For now, I should depart and protect our citizenry by shifting more paper. I thank you for your time and your courtesy."

As Sampson boards the elevator after making his farewells, Gates turns back to Beckett. "Mr. Castle must be making some waves down at Quantico."

"Par for the course, sir," Beckett says with a small grin, thinking that the waves Castle makes around here are more often of the disruptive variety. "Interesting that the FBI seems a little fractured in their approach."

"Factions, Detective," Gates replies as she returns to her desk and picks up some paperwork. "It's always about factions."

* * *

**Sunday ~8:30 PM**

"Alexis?" Beckett says as she opens the door to her apartment, having barely heard the knock while sitting in her favorite chair, with an afghan on her lap, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other, and Coltrane on the phone dock. "What can I do for you?" she asks as she steps aside and invites Castle's daughter inside.

"Hi, Detective Beckett," Alexis says. Her voice is strong, but slightly forced. Resolved, Beckett thinks, that's the word. Alexis is here with a purpose and she's committed to see it through, despite some discomfort. Beckett decides to forego the "call me Kate" routine for now, lest it make Alexis even more uncomfortable.

"We just got into town from DC. Dad wanted you to have these for the morning, and I asked if I could bring them up." With that, Alexis hands over the now-familiar pink box of cupcakes. "There's a CD in there for Detective Ryan, too."

"Thanks, Alexis," Beckett replies warmly, "and thank your dad, too. This will make sure that the boys miss him," she says with a laugh.

Alexis doesn't laugh or smile, though. Instead, she takes a fortifying breath and says "No. Thank _you_, Detective. You welcomed me tonight, opened your door to me, when I couldn't be bothered to do the same for you the last time we spoke. I wanted to apologize to you for how I acted then."

"It's okay, Alexis," Beckett responds kindly.

In response, Alexis shakes her head and says "No, no it's not. I know better than that. Dad taught me better than that."

"You know what Lanie asked me recently?" Beckett asks. She's chagrined to realize that she's acting a bit like Castle, telling a story to lead into her point.

"She asked me what first impressed me about your dad, way back when he started at the precinct," Beckett says, holding eye contact with Alexis. "The answer is you – the relationship he has with you. What you two share is remarkable. I don't blame you for wanting to protect that, protect him. Especially when you have good cause."

Alexis looks down at the floor, embarrassed by the direction the conversation has taken, but Beckett recognizes the opportunity to reach out and maybe mend some hurt feelings.

"I didn't react well after I was shot, and the decisions I made hurt some people who are very important to me. Your father most of all," Beckett says, catching Alexis' eye. "I don't want to embarrass you or draw you into something uncomfortable or get into the reasons, but I do want you to understand that I know I made a mistake and that I'm working to make amends. I'm sorry Alexis, for the pain I caused your father, and the pain that you felt as a result."

Alexis simply stares at Beckett for a moment, eyes glistening, but uncertain. With a shy look, she raises her arms just a little bit, testing the waters. Beckett recognizes the request and steps forward even though it makes her feel awkward, wrapping Alexis in a tender hug. It takes just a moment until Beckett feels Alexis' arms around her, gladly joining the embrace.

Almost immediately, Alexis steps back and uses the palms of her hands to quickly swipe at tears that had started to fall. "Sorry," she mumbles, self-consciously, "it was a long week and I'm a little strung out."

"Nonsense," Beckett replies as she steps forward and wraps Alexis up again, a little tighter this time. They stand together for a few minutes, just enjoying the peace.

"Detective Beckett?" Alexis asks while still in the embrace.

"Mmm-hmm?" Beckett hums in reply.

"Will you come over for dinner tomorrow night? I asked Dad if I could invite a friend. I was thinking that it might be a nice surprise for him. If his conversation on the drive up was any indication, he's missed you," Alexis says.

"He talked a lot during the drive, then?" Beckett chuckles.

"You _have_ met my father, right? He talks so much that the words keep going for a half an hour after he's fallen asleep," Alexis jokes.

"I'd love to come over for dinner. Just text me the time and what I should bring," Beckett says as she lets her arms fall back to her side.

"Patience," Alexis says as she steps back and turns towards the door. "Just bring your patience. Dad's been gone for a while and he's just bursting to talk to you again," Alexis says with a smile that brightens her whole demeanor. "Don't worry, I'll make sure Grams sets out some wine."

* * *

A/N: Just a short chapter this week, work is killing me. I'm not crazy about where the chapter breaks are falling these days – chapters seem to be fairly segmented into those that move pieces into play (like this one), address relationships (next chapter), or be heavy on the plotting. I'll see what I can do to mix it up a bit.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: Down below

.

_"I'd love to come over for dinner. Just text me the time and what I should bring," Beckett says as she lets her arms fall back to her side._

_"Patience," Alexis says as she steps back and turns towards the door. "Just bring your patience. Dad's been gone for a while and he's just bursting to talk to you again," Alexis says with a smile that brightens her whole demeanor. "Don't worry, I'll make sure Grams sets out some wine."_

* * *

**Monday, ~ 7:00 PM**

"Is that your friend, Pumpkin?" Castle asks from the kitchen, having heard the door open. Beckett tries to catch his eye, but can only see his derriere as he's bending over to pull something from the oven. What she wouldn't give, she thinks, to be ten yards closer with that wooden spoon from the counter top in her hand…

"Yep," calls Alexis in response. "She's here, so behave yourself. Her name is Kate."

At the mention of her name, Castle's head spins around and he breaks out the eye-crinkling smile just for her as he stands. Beckett can't help but return it as she walks into the kitchen area with Alexis.

"Just so long as we're clear," Castle says in a mock-stern voice while looking at Alexis, "you only need one rebellious, motorcycle-riding, tattooed friend, okay? Beckett here checks the box, so we're at quota."

"Castle!" "Dad!"

Chortling with good humor at having started the night on such a high note, Castle saunters by the ladies with a ceramic baking dish in his oven-mitted hands.

"Wine?" Alexis offers with a chagrined smile.

"You aren't kidding," Beckett says while nodding. "It's easy to forget how … Castle he can be while he's gone, isn't it?"

"You want real whiplash? Try spending a week with my mom and then going for a road-trip with him," Alexis laments facetiously. "There's a reason I needed a calm oasis last night," she says with a small, grateful smile and an embarrassed blush.

"Sharing stories about how much you missed me?" Castle calls out from the stove, to where he's returned to transfer the contents of three different pots into serving dishes.

"Yes, Dad, we were," replies Alexis, "but Detective Beckett's assured me that her aim will be better next time," she quips while Beckett smiles.

After placing the dishes on the table, he returns to the kitchen and inserts himself between Beckett and Alexis. Offering each an elbow, he escorts them to the table and seats them like a maître d' at an exclusive restaurant.

It's a lovely spread, Beckett thinks as she takes in the table. Castle used nice china and there are lit candles, but it's still subdued and homey. The fireplace is crackling merrily and the lights are slightly dimmed, and all Beckett can think about is how cozy and comfortable it is here. Alexis might have joked about needing an oasis, but that's what this is. For all the tension and strife in the past, she can't believe how comfortable she feels here in the loft, how pleasant it is to be sharing a meal with Castle and his daughter.

"To being back together," Castle says as he lifts his glass. Beckett and Alexis repeat the happy toast and then turn to the serving dishes.

"Is this your handiwork, Rick?" Beckett asks while she looks at the meal before her, missing Alexis' raised eyebrows at the use of her father's first name.

"Indeed," Castle says, "but I think it's still edible."

"Don't let him con you, Detective," Alexis cuts in, "Dad's an excellent cook, and he was trying to show off for my 'friend.'"

"And aren't you glad that I did?" Castle teases with characteristic bravado.

"I don't know, Castle, I haven't had a chance to take a bite, yet," Beckett fires back.

…

Nearly an hour later, Beckett's finishing her dessert bowl of peaches and blueberries, feeling pleasantly full and content. A glass of wine, delicious food, and pleasant company with hilarious stories have her feeling more relaxed than she can remember being in months. Castle and Alexis have already finished and are leaning back in their chairs, looking content themselves.

Alexis scoots her chair back and stands before walking around to stand behind her father. "Thanks for dinner, Daddy," she says as she bends and loops her arms around his neck from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I'm going to go get things ready for school tomorrow, but call me down when it's time for dishes." After placing a gentle kiss on his temple, she rises and says "thanks for coming to dinner, Kate," and after resting a gentle hand on Beckett's shoulder, heads up the stairs.

"I know that I should leave and let you get to your writing, Rick," Beckett says with a sigh, "but I'm not sure I can move just yet."

"Who says I'm writing tonight?" Castle replies. "That would require me to move, too."

"You've been nursing that glass all night," Beckett says as she nods to Castle's wineglass, which is still half full.

"Always detecting," Castle huffs. "Okay, I might try to spill some ink tonight, maybe do some editing. But not for a while, yet. I'm too busy enjoying the company."

Casting him a glowing smile, Beckett turns her chair slightly so that she's directly facing Castle. "So, how was your first day in the New York field office?"

"Interesting," Castle replies with a notable inflection in his voice. Beckett's surprised to feel a tremor of discomfort steal across her as AD Sampson's promise of a 'pretty damned compelling' pitch surfaces in her mind. "But we should include Ryan and Espo when we talk about it," he says as he catches her eye. "Maybe Wednesday night? Jordan gets in tomorrow and I'm not sure how late we'll go."

Not for the first time, Beckett wonders if they aren't letting the paranoia of finding some listening devices dictate how and when they communicate. Still, she's content to let that topic drop for tonight. Castle would figure out a way to talk if it was critical. So she shifts gears to find out more about his weekend with Alexis.

"Okay, we'll chat with the boys. So, tell me about your weekend with Alexis – did you enjoy your visit with Paddy?" Beckett asks.

"Paddy always enjoys some good crack," Castle says with a gleam in his eye.

"I assume you're trying to be cute, not confessing to hard drug use," Beckett replies.

"C-r-a-i-c, but it's pronounced 'crack.' It's Gaelic for 'fun,' coined by the Irish to describe the kind of enjoyment to be had from simple pleasures like singing and dancing," Castle smirks. "We had a great time. Alexis got in early enough that we could bum around DC a little bit. She was so happy to see me that she let me pick the museum," he says with child-like delight.

"Do I want to know?" Beckett smiles back.

"Come on, Beckett, I was with my daughter. So, we went to the …" Castle starts.

"Spy Museum?" Beckett guesses, stealing Castle's thunder.

Pouting slightly, he's still enthused. "I had the coolest cover identity when we started. I think I missed my time and calling – I would have been awesome at sneaking people over, under, around, and through the Wall," Castle enthuses while gesticulating to show how he'd smuggle people across the border. Beckett chuckles, thinking of Castle and some of his less-smooth antics, but decides not to burst his bubble.

"We had to skip the latter part of the museum, though, to catch up with Paddy. But dinner was a blast, and his concerts are always a good time. Alexis and I had a grand time," he says with a smile.

Beckett smiles fondly as she watches Castle recount the time with his daughter. Reaching for her wine glass, she changes her mind and leaves her hand on the table, playing with her discarded napkin.

Castle notices her hand and slowly grasps it with his own. "But, I think I owe you a thank you," he says softly. "As much fun as we had, Alexis was still a little edgy. Even Paddy didn't break her out of it. I think she had a rough week with Meredith. Alexis is nearly an adult, and is becoming adept at seeing people for who they are. I think that this trip out to see Meredith finally dispelled a few comforting illusions or hopes about her mother that she still harbored and nourished."

"We talked about it a little on the drive up from DC, but she was still uncomfortable," Castle continues. "I don't know what you said to her when we dropped off your cupcakes and I don't need to know, but it helped her a lot. So, thank you, Kate," Castle says as he gives her hand a gentle squeeze, "Thank you for helping my little girl."

"Of course, Rick, anytime," Beckett says, squeezing his hand in return but not releasing the pressure, so that Castle's hand stays firmly in her grasp. "But, she helped me, too. She gave me a chance to explain myself, to apologize for some of the things that happened after my shooting."

After a brief pause, Beckett continues. "She's a wonderful young woman, Castle. She was kind, and open, and gave me a chance to make amends. I hadn't hoped that we could connect so quickly, but our brief talk yesterday was a small, wonderful moment."

"We talked a lot about other topics on the drive up," Castle says, using his thumb to rub small circles on the back of Beckett's hand. "And she wasn't the only one to talk. I might've told her that you and I are opening up a little more to each other. I didn't want to overstep before we have our talk," he says, while looking her in the eye, "but I wanted her to know that I'd like to see you around more often."

Bless Castle's ability to talk, Beckett thinks, as she's not sure that she can right now. So, instead, she rotates her wrist so that her hand spins around Castle's and provides the opportunity to interlace their fingers.

"I wasn't sure what she was thinking," Castle says, continuing his discussion of Alexis while looking at their joined hands, "but I'm going to let myself read a lot into the fact that she invited you here tonight," he says while casting Beckett a heartfelt glance. "My girl likes to take care of me."

"I'm just glad that she seems to be willing to give me a chance," Beckett admits. "I worried before our time last night that she hated me. And I know that you're a package deal, Castle. I know what would happen if Alexis wasn't comfortable with having me around."

To Castle's credit, he doesn't try to dismiss her concerns. "I don't think we need to worry," he says, giving her fingers another squeeze. "Alexis and I will talk. We always do. But I think it's pretty clear that she's on board. And Kate," Castle says, bringing his other hand to join their clasp, "As much as I want my daughter to be happy about my decisions, as much as I love her, I'm going to live my own life."

This is so unusual, Beckett thinks, soaking in the beauty of this moment. We so rarely have these pockets of calm to simply be, to share quiet time with each other.

"Katherine, darling!" comes the lilting sound of Martha's voice from behind her, and Beckett instantly and fully accepts responsibility for taunting fate so directly.

Releasing Castle's hands and standing, Beckett steps forward for a quick hug with Martha. Flamboyantly attired, meticulously coiffed, and surrounded by a light cloud of expensive perfume, Castle's mother is clearly home from a night out, and judging by the time it hadn't gone well.

"How wonderful to see you again," Martha enthuses. Beckett suddenly realizes that there's a good chance that Martha's been lonely. Like her son, Martha is energized by people – the hustle and bustle of daily life. But for the last two weeks, she's been the lone denizen of what's usually a vibrant hub of activity. Beckett wishes that she had realized this a little earlier and had the pluck to invite Martha out for a drink.

"Hi Martha," Beckett returns happily, "you look fabulous!"

"Thank you, Katherine dear, you are always so kind," Martha says in response before turning to give her son, who also stood from his seat, a quick peck on the cheek.

"How was Bartholomew?" Castle asks, presumably referring to her companion for the evening.

"A boorish slob, actually," Martha replies a bit peevishly. "Tonight was one for the ages," she says dramatically as she swans to the counter and pours herself a generous glass of wine, still leaving one arm free for grand gestures, "a vibrant example of the perils of single life and of accepting blind dates set up by those with unclear motives."

"Mother's frenemy Abigail set her up for a lovely dinner at Madeleine's," Castle explains. "The outcome of which I'm sure was not at all preordained by Abigail's protégé having enrolled in one of Mother's classes."

Chuckling a bit while Martha herself laughs, Beckett recalls a story from Stanford that she hasn't thought of in years. Thinking it might cheer Martha, Beckett decides that a long overdue confession might be appropriate.

"Not to scare the old man with a near-college-age daughter," Beckett begins, drawing a raised-brow glare from Castle, "but back at Stanford we had 'screw your roommate' parties, where you'd set your roommate up on a blind date that was not necessarily intended to be in their best interest."

Castle recognizes both Beckett's storytelling voice and that she's freely giving away a piece of her history. He turns slightly so that his body is completely facing hers, his face showing rapt attention.

"Aisha and I got along well, generally, but the first event came right after our first round of exams, and we were stressed and sniping at each other. So, I embraced the spirit inherent in the name of the event," Beckett says with an evil smile. "Rationalizing it, I could say that I wanted her to have a truly embarrassing, horrid evening to help put exams and studying in perspective."

"Oh, dear, Katherine, I didn't know you had this devilish side to you!" Martha cackles happily. "We need to spend more time together! So, what happened?"

"It was the only time I ever did that to Aisha," Beckett states glumly, setting up the climax of her story.

"It went that badly?" Castle asks. "What happened?"

"What happened?" Beckett repeats. "She married him! After dating all through college. Do you know what it's like to attend the wedding of a friend, to have her thank you during the reception toast for introducing her to her one true love, while the whole time you're trying to pretend like you didn't try to set her up for a miserable blind date? It was mortifying. And she still doesn't know!" Beckett confesses with an embarrassed laugh that's overpowered by Martha's hooting.

"You see, Mother," Castle says while chuckling himself, "perhaps Abigail _was_ trying to do right by you, at least in a karmic sense."

"Alas, fate did not intervene to adjust Abigail's efforts on my behalf," Martha laments as she sinks into the couch before the fireplace.

Beckett notices an odd look flit across Castle's face, but it's the work of only seconds to decipher it. While he feels for his mother, he was looking forward to sitting in front of the fire with Beckett, which just isn't the same with Martha there.

"Come on, Rick, let me help you clean up," Beckett says as she takes his hand and tugs him toward the kitchen. If not a cozy time in front of the fire, they can still linger together a bit in the kitchen under the guise of cleaning.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Beckett is drying the last dish while she moves to put it away, her motions popping the soap suds on her nose that Castle had cheekily flicked her way. Castle's draining the sink, and Beckett takes a private moment to appreciate the domesticity of the scene. He looks damn good, she appraises, with his tailored slacks and his shirt sleeves rolled almost to his elbows, baring his forearms. He's a little flushed, the heat and humidity of the washwater giving him a healthy glow. And it's just him, with no effort to impress or affectation. He didn't even know that she was coming over tonight, thinking instead that he was hosting one of Alexis' school friends.

"What's got you thinking so loudly over there?" Castle says softly, so as to not wake his mother who has fallen asleep on the couch.

"Just regretting that I should get going, I'm afraid," she says in response, handing him the dishtowel so that he can dry his hands and forearms. That accomplished, he folds the towel and hangs it on the handle of the oven door.

Castle's reaching for his elbow to unroll his shirt sleeve when Beckett's hand intervenes. "Leave it up?" she asks with a glint in her eye, and he's only too happy to comply. She takes his hand as she tiptoes toward the door to collect her jacket and boots.

"Thanks for tonight, Rick," Beckett says happily, "it was wonderful."

"Anytime, Kate," Castle replies. "As I mentioned earlier, I'm hoping that I can see you here more often. But not Saturday," he says, catching her attention.

"Not Saturday?" she asks.

"No, I'm hoping on Saturday that rather than here, I can take you out for dinner?" he says in an endearingly shy voice.

"I'd like that, Rick," she hums in response.

"Yeah?" Castle replies happily. "Okay, so we'll have a group meeting on Wednesday for our project," he says, "and then you and I can go out on Saturday" he says as he applies gentle pressure to her shoulder to spin her in place so that he can hold her jacket up for her.

After shrugging into her jacket and slipping into her boots, Beckett opens the door to Castle's loft but leaves it ajar as she stands in the doorway.

Castle steps up to her and places a hand on her upper arm. "Goodbye, Kate," he says softly as he leans down and angles his face to reach her cheek. Letting her comfort from the evening guide her, Beckett turns her head at the last moment, so that Castle's intention of a quick goodbye kiss instead becomes a sweet, chaste kiss of promise between the two of them. Giving him a coquettish smile as she steps back, Beckett turns and strolls down the hall.

* * *

A/N: You guys are awesome. I was buoyed by kind reviews and messages this week, so my sincere thanks go out to you.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

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* * *

**Wednesday, ~3:30 PM**

"Hi, Castle," Beckett says as she answers her phone.

"Sorry," Castle says, "I was hoping that I'd have a chance to reply to your text before now, but it's been a little crazy here. What's up?"

"I think we're going to need to postpone tonight's meeting," Beckett says, referring to the plans relating to the Bracken investigation now that everyone is back in the city. "We pulled a case."

Castle can tell from the tone of Beckett's voice that she's holding something back. "It's a good one, isn't it? I can tell that you're trying to hold out on me. Two puncture wounds on the neck? An umbrella-tip injection point? Unidentifiable fur embedded in the wounds? Come on Beckett, you can tell me," Castle practically coos in her ear.

"Our vic was found in a storefront display window, propped up and dressed like a mannequin. Someone even applied makeup to make the body look more fake," Beckett says with an inappropriate grin, anticipating Castle's delight.

"Living plastic people!" he cries. "Did anyone spot the TARDIS? No, wait, that's the reverse – mannequins coming to life to kill people. Maybe this is a hybrid plastic person/body snatcher? Hmmm, that might work…," he trails off, already lost in a ridiculous fantasy world.

"Thanks Castle, I'll put out an APB on antiquated blue telephone boxes," Beckett replies.

"Don't tease, Beckett, it's not polite," Castle chastises jokingly. "We both know that you and the boys will dive in, follow some boring clues, and reach some conventional conclusion, like the murderer works for a fashion house and wanted to discredit a rival by dressing a corpse in clothes that are hardly 'to die for.'"

"How do you even come up with these theories?" Beckett wonders aloud.

"Clean living and a pure mind," Castle replies devoutly.

"That's your most ridiculous theory yet," Beckett responds through her laughter. "We'll keep you posted and we'll meet as soon as we can. Maybe before our outing on Saturday, if not before?" Beckett proposes this option, though she's not keen on the idea. Dealing with the Bracken investigation just before an outing with Castle might be risking a volatile emotional mix.

"I have a meeting for the new book on Saturday afternoon," Castle says, "but maybe the morning would work."

"Davison is open on Saturday?" Beckett asks.

"Not with the publisher, more of a consultation," Castle responds.

"Is this a new muse, partner? There better not be any flirting involved," Beckett says in a mock serious tone, though she's feeling possessive and means it.

Surprisingly, her comment makes Castle laugh. "Beckett, this is research, not a muse. Besides, he's in his mid-60s, and young for his position. I don't expect I'll be offering to rub lotion on him, though a greeting kiss might be involved," he laughs some more. "But if you want to know more, you risk spoilers for the new novel."

"I suppose I'll let it go for now," Beckett concedes. "When will I get to read this new book?"

"Soon, actually," Castle replies to her surprise. "Drafts of all but the last three chapters are in, and my new editor is really good. He's made some effective suggestions that I can investigate, and he's excited about the book. Enough so that he's pushing Davison to move up the publication timetable."

"That's wonderful, Castle," Beckett enthuses.

"Yeah, I like the possibility of getting the pre-production copy out around the time of Alexis' graduation – seems appropriate to loose two children on the world at the same time," Castle says.

"True, but I wasn't talking about the revised schedule," Beckett replies. "I was just thinking that it's a wonderful change of pace that one of your business associates is male," she teases.

"Hey! You've seen my attorney, he's a crotchety old guy," Castle says in an affronted voice.

"Have I seen his secretary?" Beckett asks.

"Point taken," Castle replies meekly, and Beckett laughs.

"Okay, I need to get back to my mannequin," Beckett says. "I'll text with updates."

"Good luck, Kate," Castle replies, "and no gallivanting with Time Lords."

* * *

**Friday ~2:30 PM**

"Beckett," she answers her phone after seeing Castle's number pop up.

"Hey, Beckett, you rang?" Castle says, referring to Beckett's attempt to reach him.

"I did," she confirms. "Don't you know why I called?" she tests.

"Uh, Beckett, you called me. How would I know?" Castle asks, surprisingly forgoing an opportunity to spin some tale about her not being able to go for very long without hearing his voice. Excellent, thinks Beckett, this couldn't have been set up any better.

"Good," Beckett says, "just eliminating the possibility that you are, indeed, psychic. We needed to check after it turned out that our perp on the mannequin case was actually trying to disrupt the commercial operations of a rival fashion house."

"You're kidding," Castle says.

"Nope. You called it, partner. And to think you wasted your shot – of all the things you could have predicted, this is the one that came true," Beckett laughs.

"How _boring_," Castle whines, while Beckett chuckles. "Maybe instead of a psychic," Castle postulates, "I'm a magnet, a lure for the more interesting cases. That could still work, right?"

"Sure, Castle, if you're looking for a reason for us to change the locks while you're gone," Beckett teases.

"Well, better act fast," Castle says. "Jordan's on her way back to Chicago, so I'm back underfoot on Monday."

"So, you're on your way home now?" Beckett asks. "We're wrapping up here and can leave as soon we're done with booking. Maybe we can meet up and you can tell us about your time with the Feds?" Beckett inflects her voice to catch Castle's attention, which is probably unnecessary.

"That sounds great," Castle replies. "I was about to get on the subway to head home. Why don't I meet you at the café around the corner from the precinct. I've got my laptop and can write until you all show up and we can go out for an early dinner."

"Just come into the precinct, Castle," Beckett counters. "Gates was going to ask you back this week anyway, she won't object to seeing you on Friday afternoon. Besides, it'll be good to see you back where you belong." Beckett blushes slightly as she says this, knowing that Ryan and Esposito are within earshot, but she wants to reiterate her interest in having Castle back after he's spent yet another week with the Feds.

"On my way, Detective," Castle replies.

* * *

"Yo, bro, over here," Esposito calls to Castle as he clears the metal detector and approaches the precinct elevator. Ignoring the covetous looks that follow the wafting smell of the pizzas he carries, Castle approaches the stairwell where Esposito awaits.

Turning and heading up the stairs, Esposito explains. "We finished up about 5 minutes ago, figured we could talk more privately in another room upstairs. You're leaving a scent trail right to it, but it might be worth it," he says as he eyes the pizza boxes.

"So this has nothing to do with avoiding Captain Gates?" Castle asks with a sly grin.

"Just a bonus," Esposito replies as he holds open the door at the top of the stairwell. After waiting to follow the detective to the meeting, Castle enters a small, cramped room and sees Beckett and Ryan already sitting at a circular table.

Setting the pizza down on a careworn telephone table to the side, Castle drops his satchel to the ground and divests himself of his blazer. Turning to hang it on the back of a chair, he's surprised to see Ryan standing with hand extended.

"Castle, man, it's good to see you," Ryan says with heartfelt amity. "Thanks for the CD – did you know that Paddy left a note inside? Jenny can't stop talking about how he wants to meet 'the beautiful lassie' next time he's in New York."

"Dude, you're happy about Castle telling some old guy that your wife is hot?" Esposito asks while pulling a face, which looks all the more comical for the piece of pizza he was trying to eat in a single bite hanging from his mouth.

"She is a beautiful lassie," Ryan shrugs, nonplussed that he should be offended by what he sees as a simple statement of fact.

Pulling up a seat at the table while Ryan and Esposito help themselves to some pizza, Castle says "I had a late lunch. Shall I start while you eat?"

Beckett nods while the other two detectives mumble something incoherent through full mouths. Quirking an eyebrow at Beckett's disinterest in the food, he receives only a silent "later" from her and decides to go ahead.

"Our friend Agent Wilson was not a happy guy this week. Sampson – you met him, right Beckett? – he pulled me into a weeklong meeting with the profilers. I still worked out in the early mornings with whoever was around, and the physical training was general, but for most of each day I was sequestered with the behaviorists," Castle says.

"I spotted Wilson around a few times, but I only spoke to him when we encountered each other in the hallways. I'm cordial with him," Castle notes in response to Beckett's look of curiosity. "But, he looks pretty steamed that I've been directed into another group."

"So, this is tentatively a good thing?" Beckett asks, but it's rhetorical, she's simply thinking out loud rather than seeking a response. "You're out from under Wilson, but still in a position to make some contacts."

"And learn some pretty cool new things," Castle adds happily. "But, I think you're right – this is probably a good thing, as long as having their initial plan disrupted doesn't lead to any drastic reactions. Him showing up here to complain to Gates seems a little erratic."

"What about Britton?" Esposito asks after swallowing a mass of food that should have choked him. "Have you figured out her role in this, if she has one?"

"She's a hard one to pin down," Castle says with a chuckle, "but I think she's contained. Even if she's in on it, I think I've got a handle on her. Wilson's the one who worries me. Him, and anyone else on his team that we don't know about."

Uncomfortable with the way that Castle seems to dismiss a potential threat from Britton, or what he might have done to 'contain' it, Beckett lets that issue slide for now. "What about Jordan – how was your time with her?"

"She was great," Castle says with appreciation. "She says 'hi' to you all, by the way. She runs a tight group – I might have learned more in four days with her team than I did in nearly three weeks at Quantico. Fascinating stuff, some really cool cases, and technology like you wouldn't believe. But, I didn't get much time alone with her, not enough to decide if I was comfortable sounding her out on our project."

"Did she mention anything about Sampson's joint task force idea?" Beckett asks.

"A bit. She's generally in favor, but her group already enjoys an impressive amount of autonomy within the FBI structure," Castle explains. "I get the feeling that she can usually make things work for her on the fly, without investing a lot of time up front in seeking approvals or applying for grants. I think she's happy to go along with the scheme, figuring that she can get what she needs otherwise if things don't work out."

While Beckett nods along, Castle turns the question back on her. "What do you think about it? Assuming that it's separate from Wilson and our project, what do you think?"

"I'd like to think that it could work," Beckett answers honestly, "but I'm a bit cynical. The FBI doesn't usually play well with us unless they need something and this seems no different." While still making short work of the pizza, both Ryan and Esposito nod along with this assessment. "Aside from our project, I'm not sure what this gives us, except maybe a chance to get hung out to dry. But, considering our project, it's worth playing along, at least for now," Beckett concludes.

"Well, it's all just an idea right now, we can sweat the details later," Castle says. "For now, I'm dying to know what you've been up to."

Beckett looks to her colleagues and smirks to see them both still engrossed in the food. "I guess I'll start then?" she says with a hint of sarcasm. "We split three lines of inquiry. Ryan's looking into finding Roy's files. Espo's looking into Bracken and the other names from your political research. I'm looking into Smith," she explains, while Castle nods along.

"So far, the Smith angle has focused on getting records from on public defenders, like we talked about," Beckett starts. "We brought Tori in to help get the files, but she doesn't know the reason. She just said that she trusts us, and that if we needed the information, she'd help." Beckett and Castle share a small grin at this as they both make an effort to not turn to Esposito.

"She's pretty good," Beckett continues. "She and I slipped into the Library to make sure that any electronic fingerprints didn't lead back to the precinct. It didn't take her long to get in and download all the electronic files."

"Are all the files electronic?" Ryan asks, causing Castle to realize that this might be the first project meeting for the whole team.

"No, they're not," Beckett says, looking a little frustrated. "But we have payroll and billing reports. That should get us employees, attorneys who were seconded to the PD Office, and attorneys with firms contracted by the city. That's not the problem."

"Too many?" guesses Castle.

"Too many," confirms Beckett. "In the two years before my mother was killed, the city contracted with 11 different legal services organizations to provide public defenders, in addition to maintaining a staff of assigned counsel and coordinating the use of pro bono staff from private firms. Just looking at attorneys – not paralegals, secretaries, stenographers, or anyone else – that's about 30 attorneys per group. You told us that Smith was a Caucasian male. That cuts our group from 368 to 255 attorneys. So far, I've found 23 who died more than a year ago. Is Smith in the group that's left? Maybe, but it's going to take time to track these attorneys down, see where they went, see if they could be the man we're looking for."

"You're collecting pictures?" Castle asks, more as a prompt than a legitimate question.

"Yes," Beckett replies with a nod. "As we track these guys down, we're saving pictures. I know that you said he was obscured and it was dark, but I'm hoping that you might be able to at least knock out some of the candidates."

"That makes sense. We should split up the list, too, so I can start helping with tracking them down," Castle offers.

Nodding again, Beckett gives him a weak smile. "It's going to take a long time to work through this list, Castle, and it's all based on the assumption that Smith was an attorney that did PD work."

"True, but remember that we want him to be hard to find. We need to be clever and careful to find this guy, because if he's easy to find, then Bracken will take him out. So, we'll put in the time until we find him or until it's apparent that this isn't the right approach," Castle says optimistically. "Besides, maybe Ryan will find the file first," he says in a hopeful tone.

"I suppose that means I'm next," Ryan answers while wiping his mouth with a napkin. "We thought it best to hold off on approaching Evelyn until you were back," Ryan starts. "We realized that none of us really knew how you and Captain Montgomery were connected, and that might help."

"Doubtful," Castle replies. "I don't know many wives who are overly fond of their husbands' gambling, carousing friends," he says with a chuckle. "I was a bit less … refined when Roy and I met each other, and I don't expect Evelyn to hold me in any particularly kind regard." Beckett notices, to her amusement, the hint of a blush on Castle's neck.

"Besides," Castle says bracingly, trying to redirect attention, "Evelyn's a weak link in that she's an obvious target for Bracken. I don't think Beckett or I can be seen anywhere near her without jeopardizing the deal."

"We should think about how to get you to approach her alone, probably away from her house the first time," Beckett says to Ryan while thinking out loud. "If we were bugged, her house has probably been wired since the funeral, so we can't talk there."

Nodding, Ryan picks up the discussion. "That's probably a good point. I'll think about the best way to approach her, how to work out something that can get me inside without tipping any listeners."

"Other than that," Ryan continues, "I've spent a little time carefully poking into Captain Montgomery's life. It's a longshot, but maybe we can find a place special to him where he might stash a file, or a connection that helps Beckett's search make sense. I don't have much, but I can put together what I've found."

"I don't have anything for show and tell, either," Esposito chimes in. "I've been working through the political names. I decided to ignore all of Castle's assumptions and just work through all of them. I'm about a third of the way through – some obvious exclusions and no one who looks better, yet. As for research on Bracken himself, I'm waiting to do that outside of the precinct, just in case."

Nodding, Castle looks around to see if anyone else wants to volunteer anything. Ryan and Esposito are polishing off the last remains of the pizzas, and Beckett looks to Castle. "Holes," she says.

"I see three big ones," he agrees.

"The defense law firms has to be the first one," Beckett says as Castle nods. "But we knew that. Some of those attorneys did pro bono work, so they're already covered, but we'll have to figure out a manageable way to figure out which criminal defense firms Captain Montgomery might have encountered back then," she concludes.

"That'll be another long list of names," sighs Castle.

"Yes, but we want him to be well-hidden, remember?" Beckett says to cheer him, completing the role reversal. "What else?"

"The military connection," Castle answers. "We found where Bracken and Wilson crossed paths, but I wonder if we shouldn't be looking more into that. After all, what better place to find a sniper or an assassin? Espo, do you think you could dig into the military background and see if anything interesting turns up?" Castle asks.

"Easy," Esposito responds. "I'll keep it low-key for now, but I know guys who can help if we need 'em," Esposito adds, clearly pleased to be the one who "knows a guy" this time.

"What's the third hole?" Ryan asks.

"The surveillance," Castle and Beckett reply in unison before trading smirks. With a sweeping 'after you' gesture, Castle cedes the floor to Beckett.

"The bugs – we need to think about why we haven't found any more, and what to do if and when we do," Beckett says, to Esposito's vigorous nods.

"Sealing the devices in my office that first night was probably a tactical error," Castle admits, "compounded by splitting up before returning to the Haunt. I'm a little worried that we haven't seen any new bugs since then. Maybe because we're all together again, maybe because they knew where I was this week, maybe … I don't know," he concludes in a huff.

"We need to be wary of trying to be too clever," Beckett adds. "It's great theory to think about feeding misinformation to surveillance, but we're not situated to set up a good trap yet. I say we keep on as we have, and that we circle up as soon as we find another device and decide what to do then."

Beckett's comments meet general nods, but she wonders if those coming from Ryan and Esposito aren't autonomic reactions as their bodies try to fight the oncoming food comas they've both courted by demolishing the early dinner. Plus, the mannequin case had kept the up late the last two nights…

"Why don't we wrap up for now? We'll find a time next week to talk again, and I think we might benefit from letting these thoughts sink in for a bit," Beckett offers. She's convinced that if they weren't so lethargic, Ryan and Esposito would already be heading out the door. As it is, they're slowly rising from their seats and giving stretches of the truly sated.

"Just one more thing," Castle adds, while the boys continue to stand. "I didn't count this as a hole because we're not ready for it, and I'm not sure we ever will be." This statement has the detectives looking at him askance. "I can't remember who said that political problems usually have political solutions, but we should remember that Bracken has to pay attention to other fronts. If we need to distract him, occupy his attention elsewhere, or even send him down in flames, we can start some fires by planting information with the press or with his political opponents."

"Castle," Esposito says, looking almost impressed, "that's really devious."

"But it doesn't work," Castle said. "I haven't thought of a way we could do something like that while preventing it from blowing back to Montgomery, and the last thing we need is for Evelyn to lose her pension benefits."

After a short pause, he continues hesitantly. "That's actually the problem with all of his," he says, waving his arm to encompass all of them and their efforts. "If we want Bracken to go down for Johanna's murder, publicly, then we need to prove motive. And I can't see how we can tell the motive story without implicating Roy."

"I've wondered the same thing. I, we need to think about it," Beckett replies, working hard to ensure that she's not thinking unilaterally. "We'll all think about whether there is a way to make this work, if going to the press is an option of last resort, or if," she voices a thought she's turned over in her head thousands of times, "justice requires a trial." Seeing the somber looks on the faces of her colleagues, she knows that she's not alone in these dangerous thoughts.

"For now," she concludes by rallying, "let's put an end to a long week. We'll take the late shift on staggered departure, guys," Beckett says to the other detectives. "Have a good weekend and get some rest. I think we might need some extra patience on Monday," she says while giving an exaggerated look at Castle. Chuckling, each of the boys leave Castle with a fist-bump and a thanks for the food, then start light-hearted bickering about the merits of thin versus thick crust as they depart.

"We're trying to not be overly obvious about wandering the building in unusual areas for group meetings," Beckett says to Castle's enquiring look. "So, we try to not all arrive or depart together."

"Makes sense," says Castle contentedly. "I'm happy to have an excuse to hang around with you, Beckett."

"Isn't that what Nikki Heat is?" Beckett replies cheekily, and Castle chuckles.

"May-be," he drawls out lazily, leaning back in his chair and spreading his arms in a ferocious stretch.

"So, Castle," Beckett, still playful. "Are you up for dinner?"

Castle casts an obvious look at the empty pizza boxes and quirks an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, please," Beckett replies. "We both know that you're 'late lunch' comment was an excuse. Did you forget suggesting an early dinner when you called me this afternoon?"

Dropping his head and flashing her a rueful smile, Castle nods. "Busted," he laughs. "I'd love to take you out to dinner, Kate," Castle says as he rises from the chair and collects his things.

Castle flatly refuses to accompany Beckett to her desk and opts instead to take the stairs and meet her outside, lest he antagonize Gates on the last day of his suspension. She's happy that he seems careful to ensure his return, so Beckett refrains from teasing him about it as they leave the precinct and start walking.

"You do realize that the boys will catch on sooner or later, right?" Beckett asks Castle as they walk down the street in search of a nice place for dinner.

"I suppose feigning ignorance is a waste of time?" Castle asks with a smile.

"Let's see," Beckett says, pulling a hand from her pocket to tick off the points as she makes them. "You cooked me lemon chicken with quinoa, spinach, and squash. Dessert was fruit rather than the usual Castle ice cream buffet bonanza. You refrained from even a single slice of pizza. You're wearing a fitness tracker on your wrist. And you've probably dropped 15 pounds since the Cartwright case."

Beckett casts a glance at Castle and is shocked to see that he looks bashful, an adjective that she wasn't sure would ever apply to him. "And, I might have misattributed the reduced alcohol consumption to your writing. I'd say someone is taking his fitness training seriously," she says as she gives him a shoulder bump.

"Always detecting," he harrumphs again, harkening back to their dinner from Monday night and provoking a laugh from Beckett.

"So, what am I working with here, Rick? Atkins? South Beach? Paleo? Give me some clue so I can pick us a good dinner option," Beckett teases.

"Somewhere with rum," Castle grumbles in response.

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: Down below

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"_So, what am I working with here, Rick? Atkins? South Beach? Paleo? Give me some clue so I can pick us a good dinner option," Beckett teases._

"_Somewhere with rum," Castle grumbles in response._

* * *

**Friday ~6:00 PM**

Forty-five minutes later, Castle knocks back his rum as they face each other in a window-side booth of Maho Bay, a new Caribbean seafood restaurant. Even here, a place chosen nearly at random and many blocks away from the precinct or his loft, Castle knows a guy, even if he didn't realize it when they came in. They had just approached the server to request a table when an accented "Ricky!" cut through the restaurant and a rail-thin chef bustled out from the kitchen. Phillipe, a Trinidadian cook from an old favorite dive that Castle used to frequent, has done well and opened his own place at last. And he's delighted to see an old customer, especially since Castle refused any notion of a dinner on the house.

Instead, they've been escorted to the nicest table in the restaurant and are the happy recipients of the gentle service of Phillipe's beautiful wife. After a pleasant welcome, their hostess saw to their needs and floated off to leave them in peace, knowing how to be hospitable without being underfoot.

Beckett replaces her wine glass, enjoying a small sip and not having downed the lot as Castle had disposed of his rum. "Feeling better?" she says with a smile, looking at Castle's empty glass.

"I was feeling great before, Beckett," Castle replies. "Maybe just a little besieged."

"Ooh, nice one, Rick," Beckett laughs, "the besieged Castle. Any other images you'd like to evoke?"

"Depends, Kate," Castle replies to the challenge. "What do you have in store for me?"

"Well," Beckett drawls out, "I was thinking that you've been back in New York for almost a week and we haven't had our talk yet," Beckett says, downshifting from playful to earnest.

"True," Castle agrees. "Are you sure you want to get into that here?"

Craning her neck to look around with exaggerated interest, she looks back to Castle and says "Sure, why not?"

"Witnesses. Cutlery. Lack of seat belts," Castle says with a sly smile.

"Let's see: witnesses are inherently unreliable, and there are few here. There's little that I can do with a knife that I can't do more quickly and effectively with my gun," she says while miming a shooting action, seductively puckering her lips and blowing across the 'barrel' of her extended index finger. "And as for seat belts," she says while placing both of her hands on the table, palms up, "maybe you should hold on tight and enjoy the ride."

"I recall being told that I'd have no idea how much I would enjoy the ride," Castle says with a smirk after taking hold of Beckett's hands, knowing that she can't throw anything at him. "Ouch!" he says as she gives his hands a brutal squeeze instead.

"Baby," she says, releasing the pressure but not his hands. "So, are you up for a chat?"

"Absolutely," Castle replies, "especially if we're starting with pet names. That seems to bode well."

Shaking her head and trying not to laugh at his ridiculousness, Beckett looks down to let her hair obscure her face while she collects her thoughts. Sensing a slight retreat, Castle gives her hands a gentle squeeze and says "Would it be easier if I started?"

In response to Beckett's nod, Castle waits until she's looking up again before he starts to speak. But, just as Beckett starts to look up, their dinner arrives, providing both the distraction of receiving their meals and confirming that everything is to their liking.

"I haven't been particularly shy about my feelings for you," Castle wades in as the owner's wife departs. "I might have some surprises for you during this conversation, but my interest in you isn't one of them. I love you, Kate. _I love you_."

He's right – this is no surprise. His actions recently, his confession at Montgomery's funeral, the way he's treated her for months, years – they all point to the constancy of his affection for her. Still, hearing it stated so directly, without embellishment and outside a situation of high stress or duress, affects Beckett more than she thought it would.

She reaches out with her left hand, glad that Castle meets her halfway to reestablish the connection they shared before their dinner arrived. Beckett takes a moment to simply bask in the feeling of being here, being loved, when everything looked so bleak only a few weeks ago.

It surprises her, though it really shouldn't, that Castle starts talking again before she can muster any words. "I'm not asking for or expecting a similar response. I think I know you pretty well, Kate," he says, catching her eyes again, "and I suspect that even if voicing those emotions wasn't difficult for you, I'm a little further along this path than you are."

Castle pauses, and Beckett gives him a watery smile and a gentle press of the hand to encourage him to continue. "But I am hoping," he begins slowly and almost shyly, "that you might be in a place where you believe that it could happen."

Beckett's already nodding before he finishes speaking, more affected than she would have expected by his blushing prompt. "I haven't been very shy lately, either, Rick," she starts, thinking back to her departure from the loft on Monday. "I've thought about us a lot lately, and I'm ready for this, ready for us."

Castle, too, takes a moment to pause and enjoy the moment. Then, oddly, he takes a deep breath and releases it. Beckett flashes back to the moment Alexis stood at her door almost a week ago and experiences a feeling of foreboding as she realizes that Castle is fortifying himself to wade into uncomfortable waters.

"But it's not that easy. Not loving you," he says, noticing her look of concern, "Loving you is simple, inevitable. But love doesn't guarantee happiness or protect against pain. In my experience, it's often the opposite."

After a brief pause, Castle continues, looking slightly flushed. "So, here we are already. Surprise number one: if we're going to do this, to try to become more important to each other…"

"To build something 'exquisite and enduring,'" Beckett quotes helpfully.

"Exactly," he nods thankfully, "then I think we need to go slowly."

Beckett's reaction confirms that this is a surprise. After waiting months for her, she would have thought that Castle would be impatient, anxious to cannonball right into the deep end. She knows this isn't a rejection, but she's not sure she understands Castle's reluctance. "Rick, there's no playbook for how we go forward. But can you tell me what you're thinking?"

Castle tightens his grip on her hand while running his free hand through his hair. "I could dress this up, deliver this line with distracting beauty, but what it really comes down to is that I'm scared," he confesses while staring intently at Beckett. "My track record isn't great, and that's without the two big issues we've got to figure out."

Beckett raises her eyebrows and looks at Castle with an open expression. "My mother?" she asks.

"No, not your mom. While she's an important part of our story, I wouldn't want to consider her an 'issue,'" Castle says kindly, before releasing a large sigh. "We'll start small. Issue one is my colossally bad first impression. I've been thinking and thinking about what you said on our walk to the bench, about your reactions to me. As near as I can figure it, it goes back to what an ass I was when we first met. I think I've been overcoming that, glacially, and I'm hoping that pulling my weight in some investigations will help overcome your reticence about me."

"Rick, you don't have to convince me or win me over," Beckett replies. "I _know_ you. Like I said then, it's _my_ reactions that are at issue here. And I think those are changing now, just as a result of us spending more time together, of not investing so much effort in hiding from this," she says with a caress of his hand.

"I hope that's true," Castle agrees, "and I think you're right. I also think that it has more to do with the professional balance in our lives than you suspect. At heart, I think you formed a strong opinion back then of me as the tagalong, nipping at your heels and playing at investigator. But I like investigating and I think I'm getting a little better at it. I think if your confidence in me grows, reactions will adjust."

Beckett takes a moment to think about this, to test Castle's hypothesis. There might be something to it, she thinks, recalling some of her early frustrations about Castle's participation in cases during their time together. But he has become more important to their investigations, and the interest of the FBI is an external comment on his potential as an investigator.

Thinking about the FBI makes Beckett realize that Castle didn't articulate one aspect of his theory. If he really thinks that some of her uncomfortable reactions to him relate to his skills as an investigator, then demonstrating his worth at the precinct could help them move forward. But, under his theory, working for the FBI would also demonstrate that he's not a mere 'tagalong.' She takes his decision not to discuss the FBI option as a sign that if they look past everything else going on, he's still looking to stay with her. It makes her think back to her talk with Dr. Burke weeks ago, about Castle addressing imbalances in his life, about putting in the effort rather than trying to start over.

"I think you might be right, Rick," Beckett responds slowly. "Or, maybe it seems like this might be at least a part of what's going on. I want to think about it a little more, because it makes me uncomfortable."

"Why's that?" Castle responds, a little surprised.

"Because if you're right, it means that I'm waiting for you to prove yourself to me, which makes me look terrible and feel even worse," Beckett confesses. "I'm sorry if that's what's going on, I don't mean for that to be how things work. You don't need to prove yourself to anyone, especially me."

"Hey, I at least share the blame here," Castle replies. "I was in rare form when we met. And, as much fun as I had back then, I dug myself a deep hole. But I don't think it's inescapable, it's just taking a little more time than I would have hoped. As we've discussed before," he says, catching her eye and flashing an impish smile to lighten the tone, "I can be patient when it matters."

"Maybe, but I'm still hoping that just realizing what's going on will help us get past it," Beckett adds. "But now I'm nervous. You said two issues, and that's only one."

"This is the part where I'm happy we ordered fish," Castle jokes weakly, "since it means that there are no steak knives on the table. Let me set the stage, provide some context and rationale, so you'll pause before killing me barehanded?"

After a brief pause to ensure that he knows she's listening and potentially affronted if still curious, Beckett nods.

"For as much as I enjoy women and find them fascinating," Castle starts, "I'm not very good at maintaining relationships with them. You know about the wreckage of my past romantic endeavors. In fact," Castle adds, sounding like he's surprised by what he's saying, "the three-plus years we've spent together rivals the time I've made it with anyone else." No longer surprised, his scrunched face now indicates a disappointed frustration as he thinks about his failed relationships.

"I'm largely responsible for those failures," Castle admits. Beckett starts to object, mostly as a sign of faith in him since she doesn't know the details, but he cuts her off. "Others shoulder responsibility, too, but I'm not blameless. I've got faults, some pretty big ones. But those relationships were also harmed by secrets and lies, by emotional and physical distance. And that's the other thing that worries me about us."

Secrets and lies. Emotional distance. Here we are at last, Beckett thinks. Time to face the decisions she's made in the past and to finally decide what to do about them. Like the night Castle shared his revelations about Bracken, Beckett thinks she's not ready to talk about this, not strong enough to deal with it yet. But this time, she resolves, she's going to get this conversation right the first time, without a walk to the park the next day.

"You're right to be concerned," she starts slowly and softly. "I have lied to you. I have held you off, forced a distance between us. I've even run to others to hide from you. Honestly," she says, thankful beyond words that he's still holding her hand, "I don't know why you're still here, why you've put up with me." Bringing her other hand to join the one that already holds his, she holds on tight and feels tears running down her cheeks. "But I'm so glad you have."

"I was so scared after that night you told us about Bracken," she continues. "I thought I'd finally done it, finally pushed you too far. I went home and tried to imagine my life without you, or my life with you but the way I left things that night. And I couldn't," she confesses. "We've been growing so close for so long, but especially lately, that I'd started to see the possibility of us. And then it was gone."

"Not gone," Castle interrupts while delivering gentle pressure on her hands. "The flame dimmed, might have guttered a little, but it just needed a breath of hope."

"As terrible as this sounds, I'm glad it happened," Beckett continues, forging ahead despite her lack of comfort as he had done earlier. "It made me realize a few things. Like what I risked losing. Or that as much as I've been thinking about us, I hadn't actually let you see that or given you reason to think that we were making any progress. It also made me realize that I've been a fool."

"Hey, easy there," Castle objects. "We're not going to feel bad about ourselves and our past decisions or we'll never feel good."

"But I _was_ being foolish, and I ignored everyone who told me that, including you," Beckett presses on. "You left us with that driver outside the law firm and went home. We rode back to the Haunt in silence and split up the same way. I got home and started really thinking about the end game. Imagine that I found a way to take him down myself, somehow. Then what? I'd have lost you. Lost the boys. Lost my drive, the reason that I became a cop and pushed myself so hard. That's the _best_ case scenario – he goes away and I'm left with no friends and the need to start over yet again?"

"So I tossed and turned, fuming and fearful and frustrated, and finally worked myself around to realizing the truth of one of those trite sayings that you'd expect to find in a moralizing kids book," Beckett continues, frustrated and a little embarrassed. "'It's not just what you do, but how you do it,'" she says in a sing-song voice. "But, it's true. I felt guilty realizing that I wasn't sure that I wanted to win if it would cost me everything. Then I realized that my mom wouldn't want me to win at that cost."

Now, she looks up, already feeling lighter, less burdened. "So now, we do it right. I don't put my life on hold to accomplish one goal at a time. I try to build relationships that help, that give me a reason to win and peace if I can't. And I talk to you, and Dr. Burke, so that when it feels overwhelming or I get hurt, I don't blow the whole thing up or run away," she finishes with a weak chuckle.

In response, Castle simply stares at her, a small grin on his stunned face. After drinking her in for several moments, he opens his mouth to talk but then closes it again. Finally, Beckett gives his hand a little tug and prods "Rick, you missed your cue. Now's the part where you provide some kind of response."

"Poor timing. It's one of the reasons that I'm a writer rather than an actor," he jokes, still smiling. "I'm just basking in the moment here, Beckett. Do you know how many times I tried to write our story in my mind? How many different ways? I don't think I ever included a declaration quite like that one. I thought I was the one with surprises. I mentioned a breath of hope, and you gave me a gale."

"That's a good thing, right?" Beckett replies with a coy look, tempting him back to more discussion.

"It's the best thing," he replies as his smile grows wider. "My own hope has gotten me this far. If you're telling me that we share a hope for the future, we'll be unstoppable."

"Slowly unstoppable," Beckett teases in reply.

Using his free hand to rub his face before he runs it through his hair, Castle grumbles. "No fair. You can't start testing my resolve _already_. You have to know that the going slow thing is going to kill me. You know that I'd love to dive right in."

"But…?" Beckett prompts.

"But I don't want to burn brightly and briefly with you, Kate. I want exquisite and enduring. I want to do this right, make sure we can handle the bumps that will arise. Too often in the past we've retreated when hurt, or avoided dealing with painful issues, or overreacted, or lied. I'm hoping that we can be better than that, stronger than that," he says.

Adding his free hand to their clasp, he continues with a tone of amusement. "Have you ever sat down and thought about all of the challenges we've overcome, all the times we could've been taken from each other or just walked away? I want us to have our happily ever after. We've earned it."

"I have thought about it," Beckett replies. "I'm glad you sound happy about it, because it usually leaves me feeling depressed."

"But we're here now," Castle says happily and earnestly. "Can't you feel it? We're on the cusp of something great, Katherine Houghton Beckett. Everything we've done has brought us right here, right here to this table, talking about the future, holding hands like teenagers, ignoring the wonderful food that Phillipe made for us."

Beckett flashes him a smile, buoyed by his obvious hope and optimism. "I feel it, Rick. I'm not sure I deserve it and I'm afraid of losing it, but trust me, I feel it too."

"You want to get out of here?" Castle asks. "We're not eating and I feel like moving around. The last time we talked while walking ended pretty well, maybe we can make it one of our things."

"Our _things_? Are we going to be one of those sickening couples who has a whole set of _things_ that have secret meaning for them?" Beckett scoffs.

"God, I hope so," sighs Castle happily, provoking a smiling chuff from Beckett.

"Let's blow this place, Rick. We'll have to come back sometime and actually try the food, but let's get out of here," Beckett agrees.

"How about this: meet me at the door? I want to go thank Phillipe and make sure he doesn't take our lack of interest in his food personally."

Minutes later they're back on the street and Beckett aims them towards Castle's loft, a long walk ahead of them that they are content to tackle at an ambling pace.

"Okay, Castle, fire away," Beckett prompts as they walk down the avenue.

"Really? Okay: Replicants are real. The Nepalese are trying to domesticate Yeti in order to defend their country. The Soviet Union didn't really fall but is actually playing the long game while awaiting mortgage and student loan crises to decimate the West…" Castle rambles until Beckett smacks his arm.

"That wasn't a general invitation, you goof," she chides with a smile. "Calling it 'surprise number one' clearly indicates that there's at least one more. So, let's hear it. Actually, better tell me how many we're talking about here."

"Just two more, and I think you know the first one, but the second one…" he says with an evil grin as they pause on a corner and wait for the light to change. At her prompting eyebrow, he starts with the lesser surprise. "I was serious about meeting with Burke. It's kind of the natural extension of the what we talked about earlier, making sure we've got a strong foundation. I can even sweeten the deal," he says, casting her a gentle look. "You know, kind of a 'thank you' for the going slow thing."

"If one thing is apparent from our talk today, Rick, it's that you don't need to _thank_ me," Beckett replies with an earnest smile as they start walking again.

"You're still here, still next to me. I say thank you for that every day," he says seriously.

Damn it, she thinks, he's got to stop that. He's just too good with words sometimes. She lets herself drift into his side while they walk, bumping hips and shoulders, knowing that he'll understand that she appreciates his words more than she can say.

"If you're up for it and Burke is on board, I'll do the talking at the first session. Whatever you want to know, whatever he thinks I should talk about, I'll do it," Castle promises.

"Always the center of attention, huh?" Beckett teases, but she drifts into his side again but maintains the pressure a bit longer this time, until it threatens to throw off their strides and make them stumble. There's probably a metaphor in there somewhere, she thinks.

"I do appreciate exactly what you're offering, Rick. As you often do, you might be acting a little too brave for your own good, but I'll take you up on it," she says. "I'll talk to Burke about it this week, see what we can set up."

"Excellent," says Castle. "Deliberate forward movement following direct communication – look at us go," he laughs. "Makes me wonder if we shouldn't cheat with a celebratory ice cream sundae."

"No way, Castle," objects Beckett. "I'm no Eve, leading you into temptation. We're coming up on Whole Foods. You can have celebratory celery or something." This prompts a disgusted look from Castle that would make Esposito proud, prompting an un-Detective like guffaw from Beckett.

"Kate, I'm very much looking forward to you leading me into temptation, but not for something as mundane as ice cream," he says with a leer as they again stop to await a cross-walk signal.

"Ice cream is too staid for you? I guess that means my ice cube trick is off the table," Beckett replies with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Since he's standing next to pole holding up the cross-walk sign and traffic light, Castle takes the opportunity to lightly bang his head against it while slowly intoning "going slow ... going slow" over and over. This, of course, prompts another delighted laugh from Beckett (and odd looks from a nearby gaggle of tourists).

"Sometimes you just can't win," Castle grumbles to himself as he looks up to see if the attentions of his forehead have convinced the light to change.

"That's a good lesson for you to learn as we get started," Beckett says with a chuckle.

After raising his arms up in surrender, Castle lowers his hand to Beckett's back as the light finally changes and allows them to resume their walk.

"Don't worry, Rick," Beckett nudges. "It's the weekend – you've got two whole days to think about how exactly you lost control of this conversation and what you could have done differently."

"Please, Beckett," Castle scoffs in response. "Do I really seem like a guy who dwells on past mistakes? When there are so many new ones to make? Onward!" he declares while raising a hand to point to the horizon like a nineteenth-century pioneer cutting a path to the Pacific. "Besides, there are way too many opportunities to get myself into new trouble this weekend."

"Oh really? What's on tap other than your mysterious 'consultation' tomorrow and our dinner?" asks Beckett. "How much trouble could you get into while writing?"

"If you had any idea what Nikki got up to in some of the scenes that haven't made the books, you _definitely_ wouldn't ask that question," leers Castle. Seeing Beckett's eyebrows skyrocket as she takes a deep breath, Castle decides he might as well go for two-for-one in the reprimand department. "I'm going to brunch on Sunday with Sheila and Kyra."

Beckett's inhalation turns into a cough. Casting him a dubious look, she says "Are you serious or are you just pulling my leg?"

Chuckling, Castle answers. "I'm afraid I'm completely serious. But Black Pawn assured me that at least some of those excerpted scenes didn't get leaked online."

"Castle!"

"Okay, okay, I give. As if I'd ever let Black Pawn see those scenes," he says as if talking to himself. "But I was serious about brunch. Sheila did me a favor and it cost her a VP at her company and some heat from the Board. The least I could do is say thank you."

"I can see that. But what about Kyra? You weren't kidding when you said you could get into trouble," Beckett says in a menacing tone.

"I know, right?" Says Castle, ignoring or failing to recognize Beckett's implied threat. "It's like some bizarre modern-day Shakespearean farce: I call Sheila, Sheila calls Kyra, Kyra calls me, I call Greg. But I think we're all set for a simple brunch free of miscommunications or misinformed expectations," Castle says with hope.

"You called Greg? That must have been an interesting conversation," Beckett says with a chuckle.

"Seemed prudent. And you know me, always thinking ahead and making reasonable preparations," he says while looking over at Beckett. "Oh, come on, that was totally worth an eye roll," he begs, but gets only a head shake and stifled grin instead.

"Yeah, I called him. I wanted to make sure that we're on the same page, that he knew he was invited, and that this started as a brunch between Sheila and I. To be honest, I think he's more than happy to skip a meal with his mother-in-law," Castle says with a chuckle.

"Do you need backup?" Beckett asks seriously, hoping that Castle recognizes exactly what she's offering.

"If you'd like to join us, you are completely welcome. I hadn't thought to ask – a morning brunch with an ex within hours of our first official date seemed like a bad idea," Castle says with a chuckle.

"So tomorrow's 'official'?" Beckett casts a look over at Castle, who's giving her a dreamy, goofy smile while nodding in return. "Then what's tonight?"

"Good fortune. A chance to start without pressure or the weight of a first date. A chance to just be Kate and Rick," he replies earnestly.

"Good answer," she says in response, bumping into him again. "If you think you'll be okay, then I'm going to stick with my own brunch plans with my dad. Are you writing after brunch?"

"Maybe for a bit," Castle says as he reaches for Beckett's elbow, slowing her down as the light ahead of them changes to admit a flow of cross-traffic. "It's a Daddy-Daughter Date Night on Sunday, one that Alexis and I have been looking forward to for a long time."

"Really? What's the occasion?" Beckett asks, charmed by what seems to be a sweet tradition between Castle and Alexis.

"I was so hoping you'd ask," Castle says with a smug smile. "You remember that Alexis had exams before her two weeks away? Her mid-term grades came in this week. No big surprise, she aced everything. So, now it's a lock: my baby girl is valedictorian."

He sounds so pleased, Beckett marvels as she looks over at him. He's teary-eyed, so filled to bursting with pride that it's leaking out of him. Knowing exactly how much this must mean to him, Beckett takes the opportunity to burrow in for a quick celebratory hug. "Rick, that's fantastic. Congratulations, Dad, you raised a genius."

Much like his daughter had done less than a week ago, Castle steps back from a hug with Beckett and wipes tears from his cheek, though he uses a handkerchief and these are tears of joy. Still, he's slightly embarrassed as he ushers them forward again with the changing of the light.

"Now I have two pieces of evidence from tonight that you're serious about us, Rick," Beckett says as they resume their pace. At Castle's incredulous look (which she had willfully baited), she continues. "You've always been so proud of Alexis. You must have been bursting to share this news. But you held back until we had our talk. That's stunning, and a little frightening."

"Her graduation is four weeks away, but our time is now," he replies simply, reaching out to take her hand. She accepts the clasp and returns a little pressure to keep his hand in place.

"And the other piece of evidence?" Castle prompts as they continue their stroll.

"Your uncharacteristic restraint," she says with a laugh. "I totally set you up for a Shawshank line about hope but you passed it up."

"'Remember, Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things…,'" Castle quotes from memory. "Okay, so maybe that ran through my mind. But I wanted to use my words for us, not someone else's," he confesses.

"See? Told you I was figuring you out, Rick," Beckett says with a smirk.

"Okay, Detective, if you know me so well, what's surprise number three?" Castle challenges.

Damn, Beckett thinks. It's never good to miss a challenge right after shooting your mouth off, especially with Castle. But how in the world is she supposed to guess at this surprise, the one that had him casting a devious look when he mentioned it at the beginning of their walk?

She's about to give up when her hand pulses three times from short squeezes Castle delivers. It draws her attention to their linked hands.

"Rick," she says, "we're holding hands."

"Yup."

"In public," she continues.

"Yup again."

"So, is that surprise number three? That we're what – not sneaking around?" she guesses.

"Kind of," he admits, taking a few steps while swinging their joined hands to and fro. "The surprise is that we don't need to hide anything if we don't want to. We don't have to do anything we don't want to do. Except maybe when it comes to dodging the press."

"So if not the press, then you're talking about the precinct?" Beckett asks. "You're not worried about Gates or someone else using our relationship to boot you out – are you thinking that the FBI thing gives us leverage?"

"Yes, but not in the way you're thinking. I've done a little research…" Castle begins, but Beckett interrupts.

"Oh, no, more research. Is this like your research on our cases, where you made poor Alexis analyze our closure statistics?" she asks while delivering a gentle elbow shot to his side.

"I've left Alexis out of this one," he says with a chuckle. "But I know a guy… Henry, my attorney. For the soaking his retainer costs me, he's got to earn his keep. Anyway, there have been 14 situations where a consultant has had a personal relationship with a member of the NYPD since 1994. There was one documented rejection – where a detective's request that her fiancé be accepted as a consultant was denied due to his two felony convictions." He pauses long enough to catch her attention and confirms "No felonies for me, just misdemeanors from horsing around," finally succeeding in prompting an eye roll from Beckett.

"In about half the examples, the couples were in the same group and interacted regularly in what the attorneys call 'the ordinary course of business.' In each case, the NYPD review board noted law enforcement training as the significant contributing factor for allowing the arrangements," Castle explains.

"So even if they ignored the time you've already logged at the precinct…," Beckett begins.

"I'll have the training, and maybe some case experience, with the FBI," Castle concludes. "Not that a little prudence won't serve us well, especially in the beginning."

Beckett smiles as she feels a weight lift. As Castle knows well, she's a private person so they're unlikely to start ostentatiously tearing up the social scene together. But the potential consequences to their partnership has been a nagging concern any time she's imagined a romantic relationship with Castle, so a defense against challenges on that front is a great relief. And, perhaps the aspect of this surprise that most affects her is that it's yet more proof of Castle's investment in them, in his hopes for the future.

They are just turning onto Broome when Beckett makes another connection. "What a minute, Rick. Back when you were suspended, that night at the Haunt when you told us about your meeting with the FBI. You said that there were other reasons you were talking to them. Was this one of the reasons that you didn't mention?"

Adopting that mix of shyness, pride, and smug certainty that only he can combine, Castle comes clean. "Yeah, it is. But don't get angry, I could hardly talk about this in front of Lanie and the boys. Or you," he ends with a small chuckle.

"Rick, I'm not angry. I'm just … I don't know … amazed?" she says, growing more serious. "You've put so much thought and planning into this, even when I wasn't giving you any reason for hope, or when I was putting us off. It's just … amazing," she finishes weakly, a little embarrassed that she can't come up with an adjective that better captures her feeling about his faith in their chances.

"Kate," Castle says, coming to a stop. He tugs a little on her hand to spin her so that they're facing each other, there on the sidewalk just a block from his loft. "I wanted _you_ right from the start," he starts with a roguish grin. "But pretty quickly after that, I wanted _us_. I've just tried to do things that might ease our path to each other."

With a laugh, Beckett tugs on his hand to get them started back towards the loft. He seems happy to comply, having seen something in her look, so she doesn't explain what prompted her laugh. If not for his 'going slow' preference, Beckett had imagined jumping him right there on the sidewalk. She tucks the thought away as something she can share in the future.

They are approaching the door to his building and Castle starts to slow as if to extend their time together. But Beckett maintains the pace, using her hold on his hand to pull him along, right past the door.

"Hey Beckett, I live back there…," Castle trails off as Beckett turns the corner to the parking ramp and starts drawing Castle down with her. "Did you leave your cruiser here?" Castle asks, looking adorably confused.

"Castle," she says in a breathy tone, "I distinctly remember you telling me that we could get away with a few minutes of cavorting before anyone noticed," she says, and delights in watching the action of his Adam's apple as he convulsively swallows. "When you said slow, you were talking about kisses, right?"

* * *

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A/N: Thus goes 'the talk.' For those of you who were looking for the conspiracy plot, there's none today, I'm afraid. This chapter nearly wipes out the buffer I had between what was written and what was posted, but work will calm done quite a bit after tomorrow. So, not only am I hopeful that I can get more writing done, but I get to turn to those stories that I've been denying myself lately. Good reading ahead!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: Down below

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* * *

**Monday, ~8:15 AM**

Due to a plumbing issue at her apartment and abnormally heavy traffic, Beckett walks over to her desk a bit later than usual, encountering jibes from Esposito on the way.

"Nice of you to join us, boss," Esposito calls out with a grin. Ryan looks on in amusement, too savvy to antagonize Beckett on a Monday morning that's clearly already gone a bit wrong. Just as Beckett is about to retort, though, she sees the cup of coffee waiting for her at her desk, and decides that caffeine will bring more relief than venting on Esposito.

After downing a gulp and noting that it didn't scald her throat, Beckett looks over to the boys and inquires. "So, where is he?"

"Well," Esposito says with false importance, "he _should_ be getting us coffee, too, but he's in with Gates," he says, inclining his head toward the Captain's office. Deciding that craning her neck to look would be a little obvious to Gates, she takes this information in stride as she takes another drink.

"So, how did this morning go?" she asks.

"He's not as bad as he made it sound, which is unusual for him," Esposito starts with reluctant praise. "I can see why they gave him trouble at Quantico – he's all defense. But it's easy to forget that he's a pretty big bastard underneath the suit coats and oxford shirts. He can take a beating and hang tough." At this pronouncement, both Beckett and Ryan raise their eyebrows. They had expected Esposito to have nothing but derision or tough love for the soft writer, so this sounds far more positive than expected.

"'Course, he's a dead man walking against anyone with a weapon," Esposito continues, aware that he might have been insufficiently gruff to live up to his own reputation. "But, against someone unarmed, he can hold his own until help arrives. And if he ever learns to make some strikes, he might not embarrass himself in the field."

"Are you guys going to spar again?" Ryan asks. "I might have to come and watch."

"Get in line, bro," Esposito chuckles. "One of Castle's groupies was down there – Martinez, the one who took the night shifts with Brooke and was consoling him before his suspension." While there's a flare of jealousy, it's not from Beckett; after recent events, her concern regarding attention from other officers is for Castle's ego, not the direction of his affections. Instead, it's Esposito who sounds a little bitter, unhappy with the attention that Martinez seems to be casting in Castle's direction. "We're going again tomorrow morning. We'll see who turns out to watch or just happens to be around."

"Wait, I thought it was Williams and her friend who were into Castle," Ryan replies, "not Martinez. You know, the whole 'Vice is nice' thing."

"Dude, Martinez is in Vice. I swear, you get married and you just stop paying attention to where the ladies are," Esposito grumbles.

Beckett's wondering if she should show up to observe when the door to Gates' office opens. Castle and Gates are still talking as they walk toward the bullpen. If the tone's not exactly friendly, it's still warmer than polite, which surprises all three of the detectives. Beckett reminds herself that Castle is an adept charmer; that it seems to have worked for once on Gates is probably a sign that she's trying to make amends. Whether this is because she recognizes that she overreacted with the suspension or because Castle's option value has increased due to the FBI interest, she's not sure she wants to speculate.

"Detective Beckett," Gates says as she and Castle reach the desks, "don't forget that you've got trial prep with the DA's office for the Murphy case starting tomorrow morning. I'd like all the paperwork on last week's case filed before then."

"No problem, sir," Beckett says politely, while cringing internally. Trial prep with the DA's office is interminably boring, even worse than paperwork. She's not sure which stereotype she hopes for: the young idealist looking to change the system from within, the gaming politico looking for a launching pad for higher office or a six-figure corporate law position, or the beleaguered lifer putting in hours. Each model has plusses and minuses, and none have proven to be any less insufferable or more efficient than the others.

Gates returns to her office and Castle takes his seat for the first time in more than a month. As Beckett sits at her desk, Castle looks over and says "did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" Beckett replies, glancing down at her chair seat to see if something was amiss.

"That 'click' as the universe snapped back into place," Castle replies with a grin. "All is back as it should be."

"I guess you're right, Castle," she says, loud enough for the boys to hear. "We're supposed to be doing paperwork and you're talking – things are definitely back to normal." Then, in a voice lowered for his hearing alone, she adds "Besides, are you suggesting that we can make the earth move?"

He gives her a small chuckle and reaches under his chair to extract his laptop from a gym bag. While he's booting up, Beckett takes the opportunity to cash in her IOU.

"Don't forget, Castle, you owe me a full hour of good behavior during paperwork, from your desperate coffee delivery while Brooke was here," Beckett smiles.

"Oh, come on, Beckett, exclamations made under duress during exigent circumstances have been inadmissible since Connick v. Delaware in 1972," Castle chides, causing an odd look from Ryan.

This is the danger of Castle's continuing education, she muses. He's learning more, which might be an asset in some ways but it also risks making him an even more effective pain in the ass.

"Baloney, Castle, there is no such case," she replies and he breaks out in an enormous grin.

"It was worth a shot," Castle says equably, causing short chuffs of laughter from the boys. "Shall I start the timer, make sure I don't short you a moment of precious silence?"

"Sure, just don't forget to reset it every time you break the peace," she says with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Castle replies. "Then, before my trial run as a Trappist monk begins, copy your work on the 255 to this," he says, referring to the pool of public defenders they're working through looking for Smith while handing her a fearsome looking flash drive, clearly security-enabled, encrypted, and probably capable of communicating with the Hubble telescope.

Once Beckett's files are transferred to the flash drive and then to Castle's computer, he settles in to begin the review while Beckett looks forlornly at the stack of paperwork awaiting her attention.

…

"Castle."

"Yo, Castle."

"Hey Castle!"

It's not until the whiteboard eraser rebounds off the side of his head that Castle looks up from his laptop, eyes glazed and demeanor befuddled. It's not apparent that he realizes what caught his attention, as he doesn't try to fix his ruffled hair, which is tinged blue, red, and green from dry-erase remains.

"We're going to lunch," Esposito calls out from his spot next to the whiteboard. "You joining us?"

"Lunch? But it's only…" Castle trails off while looking at his laptop screen for the time, "… past 11:30. Huh. Okay, yeah, let's roll," he says while putting his laptop to sleep and standing. "Where to?" he asks while stretching his arms and rolling his neck and shoulders.

Esposito just rolls his eyes in response and heads to the elevator with Ryan. Beckett's also packing up, so Castle grabs his bag while awaiting his partner. After they've joined the boys and made the walk to a nearby diner, they settle into the table and make their lunch orders.

"What. The hell. Was that?" Esposito asks as their waitress walks away to put in their order.

"What?" Castle replies.

"First, you sat still for, like, three hours and didn't make a peep, didn't fidget, didn't piss Beckett off once," Esposito starts, prompting a smirk from Beckett. Privately, she was a little disappointed – she could have used a distraction and would have loved for Castle to have failed to remain quiet, just so that she could tease him about it.

"Then, you order that thing – what was it, again?" Esposito asks as he looks to his partner.

"'Grilled chicken breast, no bun, with a garden salad, balsamic vinaigrette on the side,'" Ryan helpfully answers while casting Castle a dubious look.

"Total chick lunch, ordered in a chick way," Esposito says while shaking his head in dismay. "'Balsamic vinaigrette on the side,'" he mimics in falsetto. "What happened to 'double cheeseburger, bloody, with onion rings and a chocolate shake thick enough to stand on its own?'" he says in parody of a deep, manly voice.

Standing slightly and bending over the table, Ryan inspects Castle closely, craning around to view Castle's face from different angles and drawing curious looks from the detectives and several other patrons of the restaurant before sitting down again. "I think he's a clone. Pretty clearly, the FBI kept the original. We'd better ask him something that only the real Castle would know," Ryan concludes suspiciously, while Esposito mugs it up by crossing his arms and giving a stern nod.

"Okay, boys, how's this for proof of identity?" Castle says while wearing one of his most mischievous expressions. "Hey, Beckett, remember that bet I mentioned a couple of weeks ago…"

"Okay, okay! It's you! Just checking, for ... uh … operational security purposes," Ryan backtracks quickly, while Esposito is scowling at his partner as if his assertions were out of line.

Beckett's again torn between amusement and curiosity about this infamous bet, but she decides to take the conversation a different direction. "Did you make any progress while you were zoned out?"

"Maybe," Castle says while casting a casual glance around the restaurant. "Made it through about a third of the list. No obvious hits, but I've created a ranking system for grouping them. We'll see how it goes, I should be able to pick up speed now that I've got a process down. As long as you don't break my concentration with your usual antics," he concludes with a long-suffering sigh.

"We'll have to find some time, and I guess, some place to hear about this system," Beckett replies, ignoring his jibe.

"Actually, I have a question about that," Castle says, while looking among the three detectives. "When do the duty rosters come out – when will you know if you're working or on call the weekend after next?"

"Memorial weekend?" Beckett asks. "That roster isn't out yet, but we're off. We were on the holiday schedule to work it, but Karpowski asked if we could trade for Labor Day Weekend. Swanson wants to drive his daughter to college."

"Do you all have plans already?" he asks while looking around. "If not, I was thinking that I should've had you all and Lanie out to the Hamptons long before now. We could take a little time to compare notes on our project, and otherwise enjoy the weekend. Jenny's invited too, obviously," Castle concludes, looking at Ryan.

Beckett's glad that Castle raised this idea over their intimate dinner on Saturday night and asked her advice on how to proceed. He was cute about it, she recalls, confessing that he'd not wanted to have everyone out to the beach house until after he'd been able to take her there, and then botching the whole thing with his early invite and the resulting debacle two years ago. She's not yet shared with him what a near miss that invitation had been – that's a more serious conversation for another time, maybe after they are a little more comfortable together.

"Let me talk to Jenny," Ryan answers. "I don't think she's made any plans and I've been hoping for a chance to see your place. She also had a really good idea for our project – we might have something on that front by the holiday weekend."

"I might join you for a day or two," Esposito says. "I was thinking about setting something else up, but let me see how it works out."

This was the other aspect of the invitation for which Castle asked advice – should he extend the invite to Lanie? If she and Espo were off, there would be tension if they both showed up (especially if Esposito wanted to bring a guest), but not inviting her would also invite hurt feelings. They agreed that inviting her was the right thing to do, even if it draws her into their project, but it looks like maybe Esposito will resolve the issue himself, thankfully.

Beckett's thoughts are disturbed by the arrival of lunch. She's refocusing her attention but is still attentive enough to see Castle slip some cash to the waitress. She cocks an eyebrow at him to let him know that she noticed. In response, he just shrugs and says "It's a celebration."

Deciding to let it go in the name of a happy return to normal, Beckett takes a bite of her own sandwich. Castle might be trying to restrain his choices, but that just seems to make him more desperate for the calories as his lunch disappears quickly before him. Just as the detectives are finishing their lunches, Castle perks up.

"So, guess who called me last night," he says to the group. Without waiting for a response, he continues. "My old friend Bob."

"Really – what did your old friend have to say?" Beckett asks, and wonders why this didn't come up earlier.

"Just touching base. It was well after midnight and he figured I'd still be awake. He heard that I've been spending some time with the Feds, wondered if that would continue now that my suspension is over," Castle says in a falsely casual voice.

"Did he have any thoughts to share on the matter?" Beckett follows up. This whole setup has been nagging at her. She should feel some comfort that the mayor is finally taking a more direct approach in signaling his plans, but she still feels like this is a huge presumption on his friend.

"He thought it sounded interesting, like something I would enjoy. He asked about the story potential, and if I'd met any interesting characters that I could use in my writing," Castle said airily, looking around the restaurant. "He encouraged me to give it a go, to round out my experience with the CIA and NYPD."

"Did he say anything about your suspension?" Esposito asks while hunting down the remaining french fry shards in his red plastic burger basket.

"He did, actually," Castle replies. "He thought it was a shame that the Department didn't value my contributions, wondered if I wouldn't be more appreciated at the FBI."

"And he didn't say anything more direct about why he thought the FBI might be a good place for you?" Beckett follows, a little ticked that the person who had enabled Castle to be at the precinct – twice – now seems to be pushing him to leave. Castle merely shakes his head.

"You know, Castle, I get that he's your friend, but he's kind of a dick," Esposito summarizes, and Beckett chuckles at the earthier description of her concerns.

Castle chuckles a little bit himself, then leans in and drops to a more intimate tone of voice. "Look guys, I know there are a lot of games being played right now, and some willful misdirection. But I want you to know that I'm right where I want to be. I try to show you how much I appreciate being here with you all, but I realized that I haven't said it enough. I do appreciate it, more than you know."

As the detectives begin to react to Castle's confession, their phones start to buzz simultaneously, a clear call to the field.

As they pile out of the booth and head back to the precinct for their vehicles, Esposito's hand on Castle's shoulder causes him to slow down so that it's Beckett and Ryan leading the way. It takes twenty yards before Beckett realizes that they've split into two groups, but she doesn't think anything of it. Within minutes, they're back at the precinct and on the road to the crime scene.

"What did Espo want?" Beckett asks as she pulls into traffic, pointing them north. "Did he chastise you for getting all girly back there?"

"Nah, he wanted to see if I had any designs on Elena," Castle says with a chuckle. Noticing her knit brows while she's watching traffic, he clarifies, "Martinez."

Looking away from traffic briefly enough to shoot Castle a raised brow, she asks, "Well, do you?"

"I said 'slow,' Beckett, not 'backwards,'" he replies with feigned exasperation. "I can categorically attest that my designs are focused on only one woman. As has been the case for … a long while."

"Oh, really?" Beckett replies, interested in this little admission. "And how would you define 'a long while,' Mr. Castle?'"

"No way, Detective," Castle replies defiantly. "That's a confession that you'll not secure without an interrogation. Or a bottle of whiskey."

"Talk about mixed signals," Beckett teases in response. "Half the time it's 'go slow,' the other half it's tossing out role-playing scenarios…"

Castle's still chuckling when Beckett pulls in and parks at the mouth of an alley where there are already squad cars, uniforms, police tape, and the ME's van. As they start their walk down the alley and Castle holds the tape up for Beckett to walk beneath, he starts ruminating.

"You know, this is the kind of detail that I wouldn't have known without shadowing you. I would have thought that viewing a body right after eating would be terrible. But it's so much worse on an empty stomach," Castle says. "At least, unless there are other things that make you sick," he trails off as they round the corner and see Perlmutter overlooking the crime scene technicians taking photographs of a body in a dumpster.

"Ah, Detective Beckett," Perlmutter starts, sounding as close to cheerful as it's possible for him to be. "And Mr. Suspension. I guess the FBI kicked you out, too?"

Beckett sees an odd look flash across Castle's face as he stands next to the dumpster, peering in. He turns towards Perlmutter and, standing at full height, stalks towards the ME.

Something's off, and Perlmutter notices it immediately. This man striding toward him doesn't look happy, isn't joking around, looks focused on him rather than the body. And, worst of all is that neither Beckett nor the other detectives who just arrived appear to be interested in intervening.

Castle doesn't halt his approach until he's standing immediately in front of the ME, standing just a little too close. Perlmutter is uncomfortable with the situation, hunching in on himself slightly and turning slightly away from Castle.

Castle's hands, which had been at his sides, move quickly, each one grabbing Perlmutter's upper arms, just below the shoulder. Beckett's getting a little worried – intimidating the ME was one thing, but an actual assault will get him tossed out again, probably for good.

"Perlmutter…," Castle says, trailing off. He waits until the ME, who had flinched and looked down, clearly discomfited, looks back up.

"Perlmutter, I missed you. You are a beautiful, beautiful soul," Castle says while clapping him on the shoulder with his right hand. The tension around the group deflates immediately, while Perlmutter is locked in place, wondering what the hell just happened. Taking advantage of the ME's stupor, Castle plucks the latex gloves from the breast pocket of Perlmutter's lab coat and puts them on while jauntily strolling down the alley.

"Get the feeling that Castle's having fun reading the profilers' psych textbooks?" Esposito murmurs to Beckett, who smirks while looking away from the still-flummoxed Perlmutter to track what Castle is up to. She's just in time to see him run a few steps and spring off the wall, stretching just enough to barely catch the bottom deck of a rusty fire escape. Hanging haplessly for a moment, he uses his other hand to release the ladder, which he then climbs up.

"Blood spatter," he calls out while probing the railing of the fire escape with a gloved finger.

The crime scene techs look up from the grisly tableau around the dumpster and make to move towards the fire escape.

"How'd you see that from over here?" Esposito calls out to Castle, who is still looking around the fire escape. In response, he stands up. "Rose colored glasses," Castle says while using his index fingers to make circles in front of his eyes. "They help me see _clues._"

"Oh, dear lord," heaves Perlmutter. Even from down the alley Castle laughs, his volley clearly having hit its target.

Castle continues to climb the fire escape, following the grisly trail, while Ryan talks with the uniforms about canvassing for witnesses. The body hasn't yet been removed from the dumpster, so Beckett's waiting for the techs to finish the in situ work.

"Hey Espo," Castle calls out from the fire escape to Esposito, who is still on the ground floor. "Third floor – that's where it goes inside," Castle says while examining a window-frame that admits onto the fire escape platform.

"Down! Down! Down!" Castle suddenly shouts from the fire escape, flattening himself against the wall next to the window he was examining. Instants later, shots ring out from inside the building, shattering the window and sending the law enforcement personnel in the alley scattering for cover.

"Ryan, call it in!" Beckett shouts while watching the window. "Espo, take a uniform and secure the front door. You," she says, glancing quickly and pointing to the other uniformed officer, "check for any other ground floor exits." He nods and runs off. "Perlmutter, CSU, get back behind the ME's van."

Forces deployed, Beckett's still staring at the window, and Castle beside it. She's about to call out to him when she sees him making hand signals. She doesn't understand the message, so he sends it again. When Beckett again doesn't respond, despite the tension of the moment Castle catches her eye, gives an exaggerated eye and head roll as if in exasperation, and uses his hand to point up.

Ah, she thinks, good idea. She watches Castle climb up the fire escape, standing on the railing and reaching up to the next deck to pull himself up so that he didn't cross the field of fire to use the ladder. Once he's above the third floor, he climbs back onto the deck and uses the ladders to climb until he disappears onto the roof of the building, safely away from the action.

The sirens of their backup are getting louder, signaling the arrival of more help. With luck, they've got the perp contained in the building and can sweep quickly. She's just getting ready to back down the alley when the uniform who left with Esposito cranes his neck around the building's corner and yells "got 'im!"

Still wary, Beckett sidesteps down the alley to be closer to where the backup will arrive, eyes still trained on the window. As squad cars arrive, she details the first officers to cover the window until they're certain that the situation is contained. The other officers are sent to the building exits, and spirits lift in hope that the danger has passed. Beckett walks around to the front of the building to see Esposito proudly guiding their handcuffed prisoner to a squadcar and Ryan engaged in conversation with an older gentleman, probably the building's superintendent.

Beckett's holstering her weapon as her phone rings.

"Hey, Detective," Castle says cheerfully. "Do you suppose you could send someone to come up and unlock the roof door?"

"I don't know, Castle," Beckett replies, happy to have a little fun to chase the adrenaline out of her system. "It might keep you out of trouble."

"I doubt that, Detective," he replies amiably. "I'd say that my companion here is much more likely to cause trouble. Better send some cuffs up with whoever unlocks the door."

"What!? We're on our way," Beckett says as she starts to run toward the building. "Ryan, Harrison, with me," she calls. Nearly passing them by, she skids to a halt and looks at the man with whom Ryan had been talking. "Roof door – how do I get to it?"

The super looks at her slowly, with doleful eyes, and replies in the most accurate impression of Eeyore that Beckett's ever heard in her life. "Follow me, I guess," he croaks out. The man moves like Eeyore too, slow and plodding, as if his joints and muscles are as put-upon as is his demeanor.

After a slow crawl to the elevator and nerve-fraying ascent, they finally ditch the donkey at the end of the hallway and approach the door to the roof. "Cover," Beckett says as the officers draw their weapons. Storming out of the door and onto the roof in a 2-1 formation, they stop short at the sight of Castle sitting happily atop another suspect.

He's not really sitting on the man, Beckett realizes. It's some strange arm-lock submission hold – the suspect is face-down, pinned in position by the angle at which Castle's holding his arm. Castle's positioning prevents the suspect from moving without breaking his own arm, and it's comfortable enough for Castle that it looks like he could sit there all day.

"His weapon's over there," Castle says with an inclination of his head. Ryan retrieves the gun while Beckett cuffs the suspect and places him under arrest. Ryan and Harrison frog-march the suspect back into the building while Beckett approaches Castle, who is wandering around the rooftop with eyes down, scanning for anything of interest.

"You okay there, partner?" Beckett asks, wondering if Castle is feeling as shaky as she is after his phone call, when her imagination immediately leapt to dire possibilities.

"I'm fine, Beckett," he says, but it's his laugh that reassures Beckett more than his words. "I was standing next to the door when he kicked it open and tried to run by. Forget all the hand-to-hand training – I just tripped him. He was pinned before he knew what happened."

"He's not exactly a criminal mastermind – I'm not sure where he thought he was going, since the fire escape was already covered. But," Castle says with another chuckle, "I guess someone who dumps a body in the alley behind his apartment and leaves a blood trail to his window isn't likely to feature in a crime novel."

"Sorry, partner," Beckett says as she presses her side to his. "No inspiration for you from this case."

"All these years, Beckett," Castle says with a smile, "and you're still getting it wrong. It's not the criminal who provides my inspiration."

"Well then," Beckett says after dropping a quick kiss on his cheek, "we'd better get you back to Esposito. Or is it Ryan?" she asks with a responding smile.

"Please," Castle scoffs. "It's Perlmutter, obviously."

Laughing, Beckett leads him through the door. "Well, you might need to seek solace in the arms of Sidney later," she teases, though the image produces a creepy shudder in both of them. "You made a collar and found the blood trail to the apartment. And, you have some training now. There's _no way_ you're going to avoid the paperwork on this one."

* * *

A/N: I've slowed the pace of the story to spend some time with character development, enjoying scenes with meaningful interactions that are sometimes only hinted at in the show. Still, I can't stop to address every interaction among the characters, so you'll have to use your imagination to fill in the blanks. For those who are sure to blast me for skipping past Saturday night in this chapter, I think the Friday night outing was the important one. Besides, maybe they deserve some privacy on occasion.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: Down below

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* * *

**Thursday ~5:30**

It's been a slow, quiet afternoon since her return from her appointment with Dr. Burke. It was a good session, a rare discussion focused solely on looking forward, discussing possibilities, hopes, and expectations. It'll be a useful foundation, she thinks, for the joint session that Dr. Burke scheduled for her and Castle next Tuesday.

Thinking of the session makes her wonder about Castle again, wonder what he's up to. While she's been doing preparation for the Murphy trial with ADA Kramer, Castle's been called out to his first consulting case with Jordan Shaw's group. He's in Duluth, Minnesota, where he assures her that spring means that the temperatures are above zero (but not necessarily above freezing) and the wind will only knock you on your ass, not fully on your back. Shaw's team went straight to Duluth. Castle was sparring with Esposito, with more onlookers than Esposito had predicted, when Britton arrived to retrieve him.

There's a mystique about Castle in the precinct right now, Beckett is amused to see. His performance on the Cartwright case attracted attention, which his suspension later increased. Now, he's back and his training with the FBI is raising eyebrows, as is the fact that an agent showed up to collect him for a case. Some of her colleagues are looking curiously at the author they had previously dismissed. While Beckett's happy that he's winning some attention, she hopes that it doesn't inflate his ego too much.

As she's organizing her paperwork for tomorrow morning, Beckett's desk phone rings. Probably not Castle, she thinks with some disappointment, since he'd call her cell. "Detective Beckett," says the voice after she answers, "it's O'Roarke downstairs. There's a visitor for you."

"Oh?" Beckett replies. "I wasn't expecting anyone. Who is it?"

After a brief pause during which his hand on the receiver muffles the sounds of a short conversation, O'Roarke returns. "Gina Cowell. Should I send her up?"

Mind quickly running through possibilities, Beckett's a little slow to respond. "How about this: just tell her I need a minute to pack up. I'll come down and see her on my way out," Beckett says, happy with her choice. Beckett doesn't want Gina in Homicide. This is Beckett's domain, and whatever Castle's ex-wife wants can happen somewhere else.

After packing quickly, Beckett collects her things and heads for the elevator. Shortly after stepping off on the ground floor, she catches sight of Gina sitting on a bench, looking as meticulously dressed and put together as usual. It's a motley collection of visitors that wait on the benches around her, comprised mostly of relatives visiting those in holding or citizens looking to file complaints – a cross-section of the distraught, disappointed, and disgruntled. Amongst them, Gina is a picture of patient elegance.

As she spots Beckett, Gina rises gracefully to her feet, reaching out to clasp hands in greeting. "Detective Beckett, it's good to see you again. Rick's not around, right?" As Beckett returns the greeting and shakes her head in response to the inquiry about Castle, Gina continues. "I heard that he's out of town. I was wondering if you'd join me for a drink?"

Apparently, this is a consequence of spending time with Rick Castle, Beckett thinks. When he's not throwing the curve-balls himself, others step in to do so in his place. Accepting the invitation gracefully (she hopes), Beckett falls into step with Gina as they leave the precinct. While her mind is still turning over potential reasons for Gina's appearance and invitation, she's still aware of her surroundings and finds herself very glad that they didn't run into Esposito or Ryan on the way out.

"Any recommendations?" Gina asks. "I'm afraid I don't know this neighborhood very well."

"Sure," Beckett replies. "What do you feel like? We've got elegant, trendy, low-key, and divey," she offers with a smile.

"You know what?" Gina asks rhetorically. "I want a dive. I want us to walk in to the sound of jaws hitting the floor as we steal the breath from everyone in the place. Is that okay with you?" she asks.

Beckett's surprised by Gina's request, which seems genuine. More, her comment seems more motivated by a need to feel good than from any intention to strut. She's acting like a girlfriend, Beckett realizes, not quite sure what happened to create this sense of intimacy and familiarity between the two of them.

"Sure, that sounds kind of fun," Beckett replies with a smile. "There's a place not frequented by too many cops about four blocks from here. Are you okay with a walk, or would you like to grab a cab?"

Content to walk, Gina accompanies Beckett as they exchange small talk on the walk to a bar that Beckett knows as Finnegan's. She's not sure why it's called that – it's so run down that the sign out front fell off years ago and hasn't been replaced, and she doesn't know anyone at the bar who's named Finnegan. As she holds the door open for Gina, she wonders if the place just feels like a "Finnegan's," despite whatever actual name it nominally holds.

Gina gets her wish as they walk to a booth. From the gawping looks from the disheveled and slightly scruffy regulars, it's apparent that women don't frequently arrive unchaperoned, especially women who look like they might have wandered out of the alcohol-laced daydreams of the men who anchor the barstools at the counter. Bemused, Beckett smiles as Gina casts her a sly look out of the corner of her eye.

"Do you like tequila?" Gina asks as they scoot into a booth.

"Sure," Beckett replies, trying to be amiable but wondering about this outing's agenda. Thinking about the possibilities, she decides that tequila might not be a terrible idea.

Beckett looks up expecting to see a server, but it's the bartender who is approaching the table. Apparently, he pulled rank to wait on them, and his unctuous manner instantly raises Beckett's hackles. But Gina seems happy to engage him in conversation. "We'd like shot glasses, limes, and Patron Silver. Leave the bottle," she says, her lilting voice and smiling demeanor softening the directness of her words and entrancing the bartender. In fact, the poor sot actually bows as he backs away from the table to retrieve their order.

Beckett laughs slightly and looks back to Gina. "You'll have to show me how to do that," she says. "I think you made a lifetime fan by bossing him around."

Gina chuckles in response. "Some men like a firm hand. Others don't care about how firm your hand is as long as you pay them some attention. Our poor friend there probably doesn't get the kind of attention he'd like."

"Probably not from these guys," Beckett says while looking around. "This was a good idea. Thanks for taking me out. I was getting a little bored – it's been a quiet week," Beckett says as a gambit to start the conversation, but also thinking about her trial prep and how his calls don't quite make up for Castle's absence.

"Well, I agree with you there," Gina says amiably. "It's nice to get out for a bit. It has been a long week, but I'm afraid it's going to get a little longer. I came by to commiserate. I know we haven't spent much time together, but I think we share something unique now."

This odd statement catches Beckett's attention, but she can't respond before their besotted bartender returns. The poor guy is clearly striving to impress: in addition to the bottle of tequila, he's brought a bucket of ice, a basket of lemons and limes, salt and sugar, and a cutting board with two knives. As he lays is out on the table, he seems more like a head waiter at a fine restaurant than a tired keg-tapper who pours cheap beer into almost clean mugs for the disinterested and disaffected. Gina did that, Beckett realizes – she transformed this man with a handful of words, a look, and the tone of her voice.

Gina smiles, thanks the bartender, and pats his hand while slipping him two hundred-dollar notes. The lucky guy practically floats back behind the bar.

As Gina goes through the ministrations of preparing their drinks, Beckett catches movement out of the corner of her eye. One of the regulars, emboldened by his drink and probably encouraged by the blissful look of the bartender, has worked up the courage to approach.

"Evenin', ladies," he says as he approaches the table. "This is kind of a rough place and I'd feel terrible if anyone messed with ya," he says while swaying slightly. "Momma raised me a gentleman, I'll join you and make sure no one bother ya."

He doesn't seem to be waiting for approval as he continues to move toward the table. Well, Beckett thinks, Gina showed me how she handles situations like this. My turn.

"That's a kind offer," Beckett says as she reaches down and drops her badge on the table. "But I'm not concerned about being bothered." Noticing that their benefactor's eyes have slid down from her face and he's obviously staring at her chest, Beckett uses her right hand to pull her coat wide enough to show the butt of her service weapon in its holster, which she reaches over and taps with her left hand.

Not subtle, she thinks as the man scurries back to his stool, but effective.

Looking back to Gina, she's surprised to see a cocked eyebrow and an impressed grin. "That must be so much fun," she says while placing a shot glass in front of Beckett. "I'm jealous," she says with a chuckle, then knocks back her drink.

Feeling like it would be poor form not to join her, Beckett takes her shot and then reaches for the bottle to give them both a refill. "Before your bedazzled bartender arrived," Beckett says while casting Gina a smile, "you mentioned commiserating. What are we drinking away?"

At hearing the question, Gina picks up her shot glass and holds it out in front of her, waiting for Beckett to join her. When Beckett copies her motions, Gina nods approvingly as says, "To Nikki Heat, may she rest in peace, from those who knew her best." Then, after clinking glasses with Beckett, Gina tosses back her head while taking her second shot.

Beckett's too stunned by the toast to reply, her shot glass still extended before her. Noticing her distress, Gina chuckles and says "Surprise? Take your drink and I'll explain."

Beckett throws back the drink and relishes the burn before she puts her glass back on the table a little more forcefully than she intended. Castle wouldn't have done anything about Nikki already, would he? And not without telling her about it, right? Her flare of panic eases a bit – even a week ago she might have wondered, but she's confident that Castle wouldn't let her be blind-sided by something like this. As much as Beckett may have groused about Nikki over the years, Castle knows that she's an important part of their story, their relationship. And Castle has proven that he's sweetly and surprisingly careful about planning ahead for them.

Gina's been setting up the next round while Beckett was collecting her thoughts, but now pauses to look up at her.

"Did you know that Rick's working on a novel?" she asks.

"Yes, he's mentioned it. I've not pushed for any details. You know – spoilers," Becket says with an embarrassed shrug. Letting Gina see her as a bit of a fan-girl, Beckett thinks, is better than letting her know exactly how much Castle has confided about his plans.

"It's good. Really, really good," Gina replies as she returns to cutting lime wedges.

"You've read it?" Beckett asks. She must be getting a little tipsy already, she thinks, as the thought of Gina reading Castle's book first turns her stomach and makes her eyes burn.

"No, not yet," Gina says, pausing while she reaches for the bottle. "But publishing is a small world. I know Tom, his editor, very well. He's accomplished and a canny judge of quality – he could be at a much more established publisher, but he wanted to 'build something.' Men," Gina harrumphs as she pours. "Why is building something new always more glamorous than sustaining something established?"

Beckett finds herself wondering if Gina's question is a veiled metaphor for their relationships with Castle, but tables the thought.

Capping the bottle, Gina looks up again. "Tom's over the moon about Rick's book. He thinks it's going to put Davison on the map. Shortlisted for National Book Award or Pulitzer for Fiction, if you listen to him. He's even prattled on about how the limitations for the Faulkner should be genre-specific, so that Rick's previous publications wouldn't disqualify him from consideration," she ends with a chuckle, which Beckett takes to mean that this is some kind of crazy suggestion in the publishing world.

Placing the refilled shot glass in front of Beckett, Gina lowers her voice to confide in her. "Rick doesn't need Heat or Storm anymore. I always knew he had it in him. His mysteries are great, don't get me wrong. They're very popular while still being high quality and they've made me a lot of money. But he's shown his talent there, and he's capable of so much more," she says, taking her drink.

Beckett thinks she's figured something out, but she takes her drink before voicing her theory. "You did it on purpose, didn't you?" she asks. At Gina's raised brow, she continues. "You wrote his Nikki Heat contract to encourage him to write a novel. His contract isn't a trap, it's a … cannon," Beckett says, sure now that the alcohol is affecting her thinking, as she's both confessed to knowing something about Castle's contract and suggested a clumsy metaphor. Chagrined, she still plows forward.

"The contract locks him down where he's comfortable, but it points him at another target," Beckett says, warming to her theory. "You know him well, know how he'd react to being pigeon-holed. And you know that if you pushed for a novel, he would have retrenched with another mystery series. But write a contract that suggests that he can't do it…"

It's Beckett's turn to set up the next round, so she attends to that while Gina thinks about what Beckett said.

With a small sigh, Gina looks at Beckett and confesses "I hoped that he would try." This admission seems to send Gina into a bout of introspection. Beckett places a refilled shot glass in front of Gina in an effort to draw her attention, but it doesn't work. Whatever is on her mind, Beckett decides to wait and let her sort her thoughts.

"Are you seeing Rick?" Gina asks, catching Beckett off guard, as she had been scanning the bar in a small effort to afford Gina some privacy for her thoughts.

Beckett knows enough Latin to know what '_in vino veritas_' means. Maybe it should be updated to 'in tequila, truth,' she thinks with a smile. There are many ways to go with the question, but Beckett surprises herself and Gina with a simple "Yes."

Gina nods at this and lapses into silence again. Beckett returns her attention to scanning the room, noticing that the bartender is keeping a close eye on Gina.

"I wish I could say that I'm happy for the two of you," Gina starts. "And a small part of me is. He's a good man," Gina says quietly, "and I've never quite given up on him."

Beckett doesn't want to console Castle's ex-wife as she pines for him, but Gina has also blown away many of the half-formed expectations that Beckett had about her. Perhaps as a stalling tactic, she knocks back the shot glass and looks across the table at Gina. Apparently thinking that this was a hint, Gina does the same thing.

"Hope," Gina says. "Rick and I were always and only about hope. Have you ever had a relationship like that – where you don't really share common interests or experiences, but it's only your hopes that tie you together? It's liberating and terrifying and unlikely to succeed, but god, it's seductive."

"I'm not sure I understand," Beckett confesses, and Gina gives her a nod with a small, sad smile.

"Rick and I weren't like the two of you, working together and creating a shared history. He and I didn't have much in common, aside from our professions. And even there we're different, with him as the creative artist and me as the businessperson. But we shared a vision of what we wanted in the future, and hoped that we would get there." Gina pauses here with a wistful smile on her face, and Beckett's surprised that she doesn't feel jealous or even threatened. There's something about how kind Gina's been tonight, the confidences she's invited and shared that encourages compassion.

"When things started to break down," Gina continues, "we both hoped that we could salvage the marriage. After, we hoped that we could be friends. But the only stable corner of our relationship ended up being our jobs. There, it wasn't hope – it was experience, pragmatism."

Gina reaches out for the bottle and starts to refill the glasses when Beckett raises a hand and motions her to stop. "I think I need to cut myself off, Gina. With no dinner, my head's already spinning."

"Just one more. We're almost at the end but we'll need another drink to get there," she says. Beckett acquiesces, but places a call to Castle's car service to request a pickup, asking that the driver come in to see them both into the car.

Finishing the call, Beckett picks up her glass and holds it out before her, as Gina had done earlier. With a heartened grin, Gina meets her halfway and they both down the shots after tapping the glasses together.

"'Seductive' is the word I used to describe it," Gina picks up again, "and it is. It's so easy to let that sense of hope creep back. I'd hoped that we could come back during our separation. I'd hoped that we could try again after the divorce. I'd hoped that I could make him forget about you," she confesses while looking up apologetically, catching Beckett by surprise.

"That's what broke us, finally. Rick tried, but it was clear that his hope for us was gone. He didn't really want to get over you, and we could never overcome that. So, as much as it hurts, as much as I don't want to let him go, I have, I will," Gina concludes, her gaze dropping from Beckett's face and falling back to the table in front of her.

Already unmoored from the tequila and from Gina's confession, Beckett's shocked at the conflicting emotions of relief and pity that accelerate the spinning sensation in her head. As she wrestles with her own emotions, Beckett is surprised to hear Gina talk again.

"My only consolation," Gina says in a low voice, "is that my hope for him as a writer is coming true. Even though … even though his success there will mean that I lose my last piece of him."

It's not until she sees Gina's tears that Beckett realizes she's crying, too.

* * *

**Friday ~2:00 PM**

It's been a rough day, Beckett admits, feeling a little better but thinking ruefully about mixing a budding relationship, ex-wives, hard alcohol, and a lack of food. Gina's final confession led to more conversation and more shots. Beckett even has a hazy recollection of a fierce, clumsy departing hug with Gina in the car service sedan. After that, the night is mostly a blur, with vague memories of eating something and drinking as much water as her body would allow.

Beckett's grateful the boys have been quiet and sedate today. As long as they don't think that her slow movements and difficulty focusing have to do with Castle's absence, she can use the break from their usual nattering.

The clamor of her desk phone ringing sends another spike through her temple, which still aches despite careful hydration, enough caffeine to buzz a teenage study group, and a figurative handful of Tylenol. So help me, she thinks, if this is his other ex-wife, someone will pay dearly…

"Your partner is a silver-tongued devil," says a female voice after Beckett answers the phone.

"Undoubtedly," Beckett replies while leaning forward to rest her elbow on the desk and pinching the bridge of her nose while letting her eyes drift closed. "But I should probably ask: to whom am I speaking?"

A surprised chuckle precedes the introduction. "It's Jordan. Nice to speak with you again, Detective."

"Hi Jordan, I'm sorry about not recognizing your voice. My mind was elsewhere," Beckett says. "So, what did Castle do this time?"

"Aside from convincing half my team to shed their clothes and jump off a bridge after helping us close the case, not much," Jordan says with another laugh.

"Wait – Castle convinced a bunch of feds to go skinny-dipping?" she exclaims in exasperation, before realizing her mistake. She slowly opens her eyes and sees Ryan looking at her in delighted shock. She can't see Esposito's reaction because his head is down as he's furiously texting. This right here, she thinks, is how rumors get started.

"Not really, I think they were still partially clothed. At least that's the bit of the story I can get from Avery," Jordan replies.

With an exasperated sigh, Beckett says "Maybe you could tell me what happened?"

"Sure, anything for a potential joint task force colleague," she says slyly. "As you know, we came up to Duluth on a serial case on Tuesday. It was a messy one – victims mixed locals and university students, so it touched the local police, the county sheriff, and campus security. The police chief was solid, but the others … Let's just say that being federal and a woman counted for three strikes, not just two."

"Did you throw Castle at them?" Beckett says, imagining that this might be something at which Castle could excel.

"No, he was pretty quiet that first afternoon. Like the rest of the team, he pored over the reports from the cases and tried to get up to speed. We broke up after dinner and I tried to visit him to make sure that he was doing well on his first outing, but he'd just disappeared," Jordan says.

Beckett casts her mind back to Tuesday night and recalls spending some time with Castle on the phone. They'd spoken every night this week, until her outing with Gina last night. This surprises her, because the calls felt so natural that she hadn't really noticed it.

"He turned up the next morning, I hope," Beckett replies, looking to move Jordan's narrative along. It's another poor choice of words on her part, though, as the boys overheard her and are now looking at each other and trying to speculate about what Castle got up to that would keep him out all night.

"He did, though he never really explained where he went. But, he showed up Wednesday morning, steeped in local knowledge and folklore," Jordan answers, pulling a laugh from Beckett.

"That sounds like him," she agrees. "Probably drove you crazy, I imagine."

"He did, but it turned out to be important for the case," Jordan replies. "Have you ever heard that old song 'Seven Bridges Road,' I think the Eagles covered it?"

"That song's about Duluth?" Beckett asks.

"No, Alabama I think, but the locals have their own version of the road up here," Jordan answers. "It's not really a road, more of a route that winds around above the city, going over or past vehicle or train bridges. It's changed a bit over the years due to construction and bridge decommissioning. Castle realized that the drop sites were on the route as it went back in the '90s. It's not how we prefer to apprehend our targets – during a body dump rather than before they strike – but we'll take a win any way we can get it."

"So that's it? You caught your suspect already? I didn't see anything online about it this morning," Beckett notes.

"It should be up by now, the press conference was three hours ago. We caught our suspect about two o'clock this morning," Jordan explains. "We spent all night either setting up surveillance or, once we had him, processing the scene and his vehicle and backtracking to his house. Around six, I sent everyone to get breakfast and a few hours of sleep."

"Ah," says Beckett, knowing her partner well enough to anticipate the extra level of exuberance that kicks in when he hits his second wind on a long night. "This must be the part that explains the swimming reference."

"Exactly," Jordan chuckles. "Since they were going back anyway, Castle apparently told some story about the rail bridge on the end of the route. One thing led to another, and everyone in that SUV ended up jumping off the bridge."

Shaking her head, Beckett says "I suppose local law enforcement was okay with this? Wait, it's Castle – they probably went, too, right?"

Another laugh confirms this theory, and Beckett joins in. "Well, I guess it's as good a way as any to blow off some steam after a rough case, as long as no one got hurt," she decides.

"About that…," Jordan starts, and Beckett immediately wonders what her man-child injured. "Castle has obviously done this kind of thing before, and he warned people about what to do. The bridge is about 40 feet above a river, so they just walked out to the middle of the span and jumped. As Castle said, the key is to point your toes and go in vertical, like a pencil, with your arms flat against your side or straight up in the air."

"So what happened?" Beckett asks, wondering how this went wrong.

"Avery. He lifted his knees on the way down," Jordan says while stifling a laugh.

"Oh, no," says Beckett in sympathy. "So he went bottom's first?" At this reference, Esposito nearly launches out of his chair, not knowing what's going on but very intrigued by the pieces of conversation that he's overheard.

"He did," Jordan says as her chuckle escapes. "The back of his legs landed flat. The poor guy can't sit down – he's going to have a rough flight back to Chicago."

"Oh, Castle, making friends and influencing people…," Beckett trails off. "Poor Avery."

"He'll be alright. In fact, they're all talking about their great adventure with laughs and smiles. It's a nice change from being wrung out and emotionally drained at the end of the case. A little joy goes a long way," Jordan says. Beckett agrees, and thinks back on some of the flashes of joy that they've shared, focusing in particular on the last week, and cuddling after Saturday's dinner...

"Look, I should run," Jordan picks up again. "I wanted to say thanks for loaning out your partner and to let you know that we're sending him back this afternoon. In the meantime, if you have any advice on his care and handling, I'm all ears," she says with a laugh.

"Thanks for the call Jordan. If I ever find a way to corral Castle, I'll let you know," Beckett says in a tone that clearly indicates there's not much hope.

Placing the phone back in the receiver after making her farewell, Beckett looks up to see Ryan and Esposito looking expectantly at her. "Don't even ask," she says with a smirk, "unless you want to tell me about your bet." Then, unable to resist, she sends a quick text to Castle: **If you tell me how to make a bunch of feds jump off a bridge, I might tell you about my evening out with Gina. Have a good flight!**

* * *

.

A/N: Hi all, we're taking off for the weekend, so I'm not sure I'll be around in time to post as usual. So, this chapter goes up a little early. Hope you enjoyed it. I appreciated the chance to play with a character that I think is sometimes unfairly or unnecessarily vilified. And for any UMD students, I apologize if I've misrepresented Seven Bridges Road, but it's been about 20 years since I've jumped off Castle's bridge (and no, I didn't lift my knees).


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: We'll return to the conspiracy plot soon, but Castle has a promise to keep, first.

.

* * *

**Tuesday ~3:30 PM**

"Castle, settle down, it'll be fine," Beckett says from the driver's seat of her cruiser.

"Sorry. Just nervous, you know?" Castle says while tapping his knee and looking out the window as Manhattan crawls by.

"You've told me that you're seeing a therapist," Beckett starts, causing Castle to swivel his head to look at her with eyebrow raised. "Okay, so you haven't told me, but you didn't disagree with my assertion that you were," she corrects, and Castle smiles. "So, what's the big deal?"

"It's you. It's us," Castle says, tossing his hands in the air. "I don't really do introspection, or at least I didn't until your shooting. I'm still trying to get used to it. And this is just …," he trails off and turns to look out the window again. "Just so important."

Still surprised that he's so worked up about this, Beckett reaches out and grabs his hand. The contact seems to center him, calm him down.

"We'll be fine, Rick," she says confidently. "And I'm not just talking about today's session."

Castle takes a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it out as he sinks into the cruisers seat. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Kate," he says as he squeezes her hand, then releases it. "I've got something to live for, so don't drive us into a pole or anything."

Shaking her head, she returns both hands to the wheel and checks the time, noting that they're in good shape.

"Kate, I've got a proposal for you," Castle starts.

"I thought we were going slow," Beckett replies, before what she said actually reaches her brain. Looking at Castle and seeing a matching expression of shock, Beckett cannot believe that she just made a marriage joke. The notion of her, not Castle, being the one to stick her foot in this particular mess is absurd – Vegas wouldn't even have laid odds on it.

Something that sounds vaguely like a muffled snort escapes from Castle, who now looks like he's desperately trying not to laugh. It's enough to set Beckett off, her ringing laugh rebounding off the windows of the car.

"I wasn't thinking of anything quite so dramatic," Castle says as they settle down, "though it's good to know that your expectations are so high that the topic coming up while slogging through mid-town traffic doesn't cause surprise," he teases.

"Sorry, Castle," Beckett replies. "I appear to be learning bad jokes and poor timing from someone I'm hanging around with."

"Oh, really?" Castle says with interest. "We'll explore this 'willing student' aspect of our relationship later," Castle says. "I actually had a more sedate _request_ for you."

Rolling her eyes and using her hand to make a circular 'get on with it' gesture, Beckett encourages him to go ahead.

"I was thinking that I'd like to go out to the Hamptons early to get the house ready for the weekend," Castle says, looking ahead to the team's trip out to the beach house. "You know – buy groceries, air out the house, wash the sheets, search for listening devices – the usual. Would you be willing to drive out with Alexis on Friday?"

Beckett's about to agree when Castle interrupts her.

"Hold on a minute," Castle says. "I think we're on the same page, but I need to get better about articulating my thoughts. This isn't just about transporting my daughter to the beach – I thought it would also be a chance for the two of you to spend some time together. So, if that sounds uncomfortable or premature, no problem, we'll just all head out together."

"I understood what you were suggesting, Rick," Beckett answers with a tone of indulgence, "and it's a good idea. I'd love to drive out with Alexis."

"Great!" Castle enthuses. "So, if you're still talking to me after this session, we're all set."

Rolling her eyes yet again, Beckett aims them toward the parking garage and the counseling session that has Castle so on edge.

* * *

"Mr. Castle, nice to meet you," says Dr. Burke as he welcomes Beckett and Castle into his office.

"Please, call me Rick. Or Castle. Just drop the 'mister,'" Castle says affably. Beckett knows Castle well and can tell that he's nervous, but he's operating smoothly with Dr. Burke.

"Please," the therapist says, gesturing to the two chairs that he's set out for their session. As they're getting seated and comfortable, Beckett notices that Castle started to sit at a slight angle and with one leg atop the other. She sees the exact instant that he realizes he's assuming a defensive posture and makes an effort to uncross his legs and orient himself directly at Dr. Burke. Catching his eye, Beckett notices that Burke also followed this progression.

"Rick, Kate tells me that this session was your idea, and that you've volunteered to do most of the talking today. Why don't you tell me what you had in mind, or what you'd like to accomplish?" Burke starts by lobbing a softball question to establish a rapport.

"Are you Catholic, Doctor, or familiar with that faith?" Castle asks. Less than five minutes into the session and Beckett's already lost. She can count on no fingers the number of times that Castle has asked about religious preferences, at least outside of resurrection/zombie/divine retribution contexts.

"I'm not a practicing Catholic, Rick, but I know a bit about the faith. Why do you ask?" Burke follows up.

Taking a deep breath, Castle wades in and is shockingly direct. "I've loved Kate for a long time, since before the events of her shooting. In that time, we've had some problems and misunderstandings. I'm hoping that we can find a way to build a strong foundation, help us learn to love each other more openly."

At this point, Beckett feels compelled to speak up, even before Dr. Burke asks. "I want that, too," she says. "Castle has been the brave one so far as we've started to explore a relationship, but I'm in this, too." Reaching out to clasp Castle's hand and receiving a beautiful, shy smile in return, she turns back to Dr. Burke. "We've talked about some of my difficulties connecting with people and maintaining relationships. I want this to work, and I'm willing to put in the effort for Rick. I'm hoping you can help us."

"Rick, what's on your mind?" Burke asks, having noticed something in his reaction to Beckett's comments that caught his attention. Called on directly, Castle blushes a little and looks down, before collecting himself and answering.

"Well, I asked about religion because I've thought about this session, and any that follow it, as a kind of pre-pre-Cana," Castle says.

This comment catches Beckett short. She may not be a member of that faith, but she knows what pre-Cana means to Catholics. "Marriage?" She whispers.

Looking at Burke because it's easier than looking at Castle right now, Beckett is taken aback by the look of surprise on his face, too. Leave it to Castle to pull visible reactions out of her therapist.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Castle says, looking back and forth between Beckett and Burke and actually chuckling. "That's why there's an extra 'pre' in there. I know we're not there, that we've got to build a foundation. Give me _some_ credit for learning from past mistakes," he says with faked exasperation.

"This can't really surprise you, Kate," Castle says, turning in his seat to face her directly. "We talked about enduring, and you know I'm an optimist. What better dream for me is there than a future filled with you?"

What a sweet, befuddling man, Beckett thinks. But he's right, she isn't really surprised.

"Rick, perhaps it would help if we could be sure that we're talking about the same thing. What do you envision when you talk about our sessions in relation to pre-Cana?" asks Dr. Burke.

"I'm not thinking about the religious aspects of it," Castle starts, "I'm not Catholic, either. But, I've looked into it and think it's just a really cool way to get couples to talk about the things that are most likely to cause tension in a relationship."

"Have you participated in any of these pre-Cana sessions?" Burke asks the question that Beckett is pondering, wondering about Meredith and Gina.

"Only as an observer, a few weeks ago," Castle answers. "What impressed me the most is what the priest told me before the session, and it turned out to be exactly right: the benefit isn't in agreement between the couple, but in making sure that they've had the conversation. That way, at least different expectations are clear in advance."

Burke is nodding, either in agreement or to encourage Castle's continued participation, now that he seems to have gotten past his case of nerves. "And you think that you and Kate would benefit from something like that?"

This prompts another laugh from Castle. "Of course we would. Loving Kate doesn't change who I am. I can get carried away sometimes," noticing Beckett's raised eyebrow, Castle amends "okay, often. I kind of get focused on something and assume that Kate's on board. If I can do that with something small like an odd lead on a case or a movie night, I'm sure I could do it about something more important, like, I don't know … like having a joint checking account or deciding who to visit for Thanksgiving or whether we'll have five kids or six."

"We are _NOT_ having six kids," Beckett can't help but respond. What the hell? Beckett thinks. Somehow they've shot past marriage and are talking about kids?

"See? The value's in having the conversation," Castle appeals to Burke, who looks amused. "Now I know that Kate doesn't want a sub for our basketball team. Not a deal-breaker." Beckett just shakes her head and wonders, not for the first time, what she's gotten herself into.

"You seem to have a healthy respect for the challenges that the two of you might encounter and the preparations that might help," Burke starts, and Beckett's glad to see that he's not deterred by Castle's unique blend of insight and frivolity. "But I have the feeling that there is something specific that's commanding your attention."

Castle nods and runs his free hand through his hair. "There is," he says, then stops to collect his thoughts. "Kate and I have talked about her willingness to commit to relationships…," Castle starts, and Beckett feels a note of discord.

"Castle…," she starts, but he cuts her off.

"Sorry, Kate, I wasn't mentioning that as part of my answer, but part of the preface. I know you're in this," he says, casting her a gentle smile. "We're diving in, right?"

As she smiles and nods eagerly, he turns back to Burke. "What I'm trying to say is that we've talked about Kate's commitment concerns, but we haven't talked about my failure to sustain a mature relationship. I'm not worried about Kate's investment in our relationship – I'm worried about screwing it up."

"I see," replies Dr. Burke. "Is this why you visited a pre-Cana session?"

"No," Castle answers, "not really. I was there for something else, but I've been thinking about it since then."

"Thinking about it with respect to a relationship with Kate, or in regards to your previous marriages?" Burke asks, again giving voice to something Beckett was wondering.

"Mostly about Kate," Castle answers. "We had a case recently that involved an old friend who mentioned how she wished things had gone differently years ago. I don't really think that way – I thought about what would have happened if I'd talked about these things before my marriages, but out of … curiosity, I guess. But I only really care about whether those relationships provide any hints about how to make sure I get things right this time."

"I'm surprised, Rick," Burke offers, "that you don't seem embittered by your past marriages."

"I have regrets," Castle says in a surprisingly conversational tone. "Of course I have regrets. But Meredith and Gina are both good people." Noticing Beckett's look of surprise, Castle continues. "Yes, even Meredith. Look, they can be irritating or frustrating or flighty, but that just makes them fallible like the rest of us, not bad."

"Then perhaps I should ask the blunt, obvious question," Burke follows. "Rick, why didn't your marriages work?"

"Oh, boy, here we go …" Castle says with a grimace.

"Rick, we don't have to get into this today," Beckett offers, while Burke nods.

"No, no. I think we should – it's something I wanted us to discuss. I say the same thing when the roller coaster is about to take its first big drop," Castle replies with an embarrassed shrug.

Looking up and seeing Burke's inquisitive stare, Castle wades in. "Okay. Okay. So, I guess the first thing to say is that Meredith and Gina are very different people, so I'm hoping there isn't a simple answer here, because it would be me – I'm the only thing they have in common."

Seeing attentive looks from Beckett and Burke, Castle continues. "Meredith I and I weren't together long before we married. You can guess why," he says, looking at Beckett.

"Alexis?" Beckett asks.

"Exactly. Look, Doctor, no offense to you or your impressive credentials, but this part's easy," Castle says. "I come from a broken home and never knew my father. When we were surprised by Meredith's pregnancy, I wanted the family I never had. That's not something that Meredith ever wanted. But I give her credit for trying to make it work, despite her misgivings about the marriage and about bringing Alexis to term."

At this comment, Beckett withdraws her hand to cover her mouth. The thought that Alexis might not have come to be is deeply disturbing – as anyone who knows that wonderful young woman would certainly agree, Beckett thinks.

Nodding, Castle continues. "So, we gave it a go. Meredith was terrified about what having a child would do to her acting career, and she made it clear that she wanted to keep working. I could be more flexible with my time, so we fell into the expectation that I'd be the caregiver for Alexis."

"It was rough," Castle says with a sigh, "and started breaking down quickly. The thing that Meredith and I had in common was having a good time, and many of the things we enjoyed weren't in the cards for a pregnant woman. And, here again, I credit Meredith – despite her misgivings, she didn't do anything that would hurt the baby."

"You don't think she would have …" Beckett trails off.

"No, I don't. And she didn't," Castle replies, defending his ex-wife. "But there are plenty of unwanted pregnancies in the acting world, and sometimes an 'unfortunate miscarriage' cleans the slate. Such a fate could have befallen me just as easily as my daughter."

Oh, god, Beckett thinks while feeling queasy. How did this conversation get so horrible so quickly? Castle must have been an absolute wreck back then, she thinks, desperate to forge a life for his family and forced to grow up very quickly, while thinking about how lucky he was to be around at all.

"Alexis arrived, safe and sound if a little premature," Castle says with a smile. "I've told you about this before Beckett, but I was blinded by love from the first touch. I knew it then as I know it now – I was involved in creating a little piece of perfection."

"It sounds as if your wife did not feel the same way?" Burke asks.

"Meredith tried, really tried. I know she did," Castle continues. "But not everyone wants to be a parent, or can be a good one. And after the delivery, Meredith took up a brutal training regimen to get back into shape. She was often at the gym and irritable from lack of food, and I was often at home and irritable from lack of sleep," Castle says with a sigh. "We seemed to be settling into a better rhythm – her back to acting and Alexis sleeping more regularly – when I came home to find her with another man in the living room."

Surprising both Beckett and Burke, Castle laughs. "This is one of the things I thought about while observing the pre-Cana session," Castle muses. "We just had a complete disconnect. I said I wanted to get married and have a family, assuming that fidelity and exclusivity was an understood component of that vision. She said that she wanted to get married if she could keep working. Meredith isn't a bad actress, but she's needed to … convince … casting agents to give her roles."

"Oh, come on!" Beckett interjects. "She thought she could get married and still sleep around? That's bullshit!"

"Trust me, Kate, I was as shocked as you were. More so, since I was exhausted and feeling overworked and unappreciated while caring for Alexis and trying to support our family with my writing," Castle says. "But think about this as a cop, especially with your Vice experience. Strippers have relationships, right? Prostitutes, too? There is a separation in their minds about who they _choose_ to share their intimacies with and those they _have_ to. That's how Meredith thought of it – winning the role was part of her job, different from what she was choosing to do at home."

"And I'll tell you this," Castle continues. "As confused as I was about her actions, she was just as confused by my reactions. After all, she'd told me that she wanted to go back to work. And, as she pointed out, it's not like she was sleeping with him in our bed."

"That one seemingly bizarre comment is what clarified the situation, isn't it?" Burke asks.

"Exactly!" Castle responds, happy that Burke made this connection. "I didn't understand at first. I mean – what a ridiculous thing to say, right? Can you imagine some guy saying 'but honey, I only had sex with her in the car, so it doesn't count'? How epically lame. Except this wasn't – her comment is what finally clued me in to the separation in her mind between work and family. She brought her work home, but not into the bedroom."

"You can't be saying that you were okay with this?" Beckett says, still feeling sick but knowing Castle well enough to know that he wouldn't sign on to being cuckolded.

"No, I wasn't. I felt angry and bitter and betrayed. Plus, I felt the added moral indignation of processing those emotions on Alexis' behalf," Castle confesses, sounding embarrassed again. "At the same time, the arrangement wasn't working for Meredith, either. She suggested an end to the marriage, but it was in that conversation that our misunderstandings became clear. And so we divorced relatively amicably, ending something that probably never should have been, with a lot of heartache that might have been avoided if our wires weren't so crossed from the start."

"So, now you see, Doctor," Castle continues, turning to Dr. Burke, "why I found the thought of pre-Cana with Meredith a little interesting. Can you imagine? The priest would ask me about my intentions and I could've said 'love? I don't know yet, but isn't having knocked her up a good reason?' And then he would have turned to Meredith in dismay and heard 'I guess I'm okay with it, as long as I can keep sleeping with other men.' The divine lightning bolt would have fried us all," Castle concludes with a chuckle.

"Oh, Castle, I'm so sorry," Beckett laments, ignoring his attempt at humor.

"Thank you, Kate," Castle smiles, "but it's okay. It was almost 20 years ago and it gave me Alexis, so I came out way ahead. I'd just like to avoid the heartache this time around."

"While I think some of the issues from that relationship are obvious," Dr. Burke says, "I'd like to hear about your second wife – Gina? – before following up. What can you tell us about that relationship?"

After a brief pause, Castle says "Oh, you were talking to me? I thought Kate had this one covered," with a smirk.

"Smart ass," Beckett chuffs. "Gina and I went out for drinks last week," she explains to Burke, who looks on with interest.

"After Meredith," Castle starts, taking the attention off Beckett as he'd said he would, "I overreacted a bit. I enforced a strict separation between my public life with its associated carousing and my private life. As my publisher, Gina actually helped me keep these two spheres separate, which was difficult. She was one of the few people who got to meet Alexis. We spent a lot of time together, which lead to conversations about Alexis, then Meredith. Almost as an experiment, a reaction to how different Meredith and I had been, Gina and I started talking about what we hoped for in our lives. When we discovered that those hopes overlapped, it seemed natural to pursue them," Castle shrugs.

"Hope alone isn't enough the sustain a relationship, though," Castle says with a sigh, and Beckett nods at having heard something very similar from Gina. She finds herself cheered by this – that Castle and Gina seem to be on the same page. Much better that than finding out that there's some misunderstanding keeping them apart and being thrust in the tragic situation of deciding between clarifying the confusion for them or pursuing her relationship in that shadow instead.

"It turns out that some of those hopes couldn't come to fruition, even with medical intervention," Castle says in a somber tone. "Others proved to be equally elusive. Our professional relationship, which people assumed would help, was actually often adversarial, especially around deadlines, contract negotiations, creative control, and critical and commercial expectations. So, the relationship started breaking down. Again, it was my wife who suggested ending the marriage. Again, I agreed. And, again, it was amicable."

Dr. Burke is beginning to frame a question when Castle starts speaking again. "But it was different from the situation with Meredith," Castle interjects. "With Meredith, we both knew it was over and looked forward to moving on. With Gina, we knew it was over but we both still wanted it to work. The door was open, and I think we parted knowing that we might find ourselves there again sometime down the road."

"So, thinking about those two relationships…," Burke starts, but Castle interrupts again.

"Actually, Doctor, can we wait a minute before rounding into the questions?" Castle asks. "There's something else I should discuss, something that Kate deserves to hear."

"Certainly, Rick," Burke replies, "go ahead."

"I'm not ready to pinpoint when I fell for you exactly, Kate," he says in a low voice but rounds into a smile. "You'll still have to pull that out of me some other time," he says, and Beckett chuckles.

"But, even early on, seeing you with someone else killed me. My reaction to Sorenson caught me by surprise, and he wasn't even in the picture. So, when Demming was around, I reacted poorly. After the disaster with the invitation, I convinced myself that he was better for you, that I should be happy for you," Castle says with a sigh.

"I was hurting and decided that maybe things hadn't been so bad with Gina," he continues. "When she was after me about my writing deadlines and I mentioned to her that I'd be focusing on writing while in the Hamptons, she knew that I'd invited you and that it didn't work out. So, she suggested that we give it another try. You know how that worked out."

"So, you had invited Kate to join you…" Burke starts, but this time Beckett interrupts.

"Wait, Dr. Burke, please?" Beckett asks, determined to discuss the Hamptons/Demming/Gina debacle with Castle.

"Rick, do you remember how rocky things were when you returned to the precinct after that summer?" Beckett asks.

"Um, yeah," Castle replies, "that would be the time that you nearly shot me, a couple times, and I had to audition for the right to come back."

"Everyone knew that I had broken things off with Demming so that I could accept your invitation, before Gina showed up at the precinct …," Beckett starts to explain, when Castle smacks himself in the forehead with his palm.

"Wait a minute," he says, "just wait a minute." He's dropped his head, focusing on what she said and considering the ramifications. "So Gina, Josh, the tension, when you said you ran to others … it all tracks back to a quirk of timing two years ago, doesn't it?"

Castle sounds odd, like he's over-controlling his voice when asking the question. Wearing what she knows is a sad smile, Beckett nods.

Beckett and Burke look at each other in surprise as Castle starts laughing. Getting himself under control slowly, he's still panting when he starts to explain himself. "That is perfect, just perfect. I couldn't have written a romance that was so damned near-tragic," he chuckles.

"So Rick, …," Burke starts to ask.

"Are you being serious or sarcastic?" Beckett asks, not sure how to react to Castle's outburst.

"I'm completely serious," Rick answers, sobering. "It is perfect. Kate, tell me this – if things had worked out two years ago, how long would we have lasted?"

"There were a lot of things that could have brought us together after that summer, Castle," Beckett says with some doubt. "Nearly freezing to death together, Tyson, our undercover outing in your fancy car, you disarming a nuclear bomb in the middle of Manhattan…," she trails off and shoots her gaze to Burke. "You didn't hear that last one." With wide eyes and raised brows, her therapist shakes his head.

"Right, Kate, but I'm the optimist in our duo," Castle replies. "Do you think that we could have been strong enough to withstand what happened in the hangar, or at Montgomery's funeral, if we were together then?"

"I'd like to hope so, Rick," Beckett answers, determined to be brutally honest. "But … I was really upset with you about … the hangar incident," she says, cutting her eyes at Dr. Burke. "And, given how I reacted after my shooting, while I'd like to think otherwise, I'm … not confident that we could have survived my reaction. Especially if the night at the law firm is any indication," Beckett says, looking down.

"Hey," Castle says, drawing Beckett's attention as he again takes hold of her hand. "This is why it's perfect – for as much as some of those things hurt, for as much as I'd love to never hear the name 'Josh' again – missing our chance then means that we can do it right now. It's like we talked about last week – we want something enduring, right? So what if it took us a little while to get here?"

"Yes, Rick, we want something that lasts. It took me too long to admit what we had, but I'll be damned if I'm letting go now," Beckett smiles while letting out a breath that's part sigh, part sob, and pure relief.

Dr. Burke clears his throat to catch their attention, but Castle starts to speak and Burke sighs in frustration.

"I'm sorry, you know," Castle says as he brings his other hand to the clasp he shares with Beckett. "I can complain about Josh, but I know that I hurt you, too. I'm sorry," Castle repeats, turning her hand as he lifts it to deliver a gentle kiss to her palm.

"I'm sorry, too," Beckett says, sliding her hand so that it cups his cheek while stroking gently with her thumb.

Dr. Burke clears his throat again and, shocked at the lack of an interruption, finally finishes a question. "Given how today's conversation has gone, I'm not sure that we should dwell on the particulars of your past relationships, Rick. Instead, I'd like to follow up on a comment you made a few minutes ago, that you wanted to talk about your previous marriages. Why?" Burke ends simply.

"Because Kate should know," Castle answers directly, though he's still looking at Beckett. "Because if I were her, I'd want to know enough to determine if what went wrong there might happen again. And because we've talked about some of her reactions to me, and I've wondered if these reminders of my past failures color our interactions now."

"No, Castle," Beckett says, shaking her head. "I have wondered, especially after hearing about Meredith over the years," she says, and they share a grin. "But I know you well. And even my impromptu outing with Gina helped me see that she and Meredith are their own people, not just stereotypes. Hearing about your marriages helps me understand you better, but we're not them," she says, and Castle flashes her a grateful smile.

"Don't get me wrong," Beckett continues. "We'll have our own problems, I'm sure, but we'll work them out. The only issues that your ex-wives pose for us is if they think they have any residual claim on you. As someone mentioned to me recently, I can be selfish. And in this context," she says, gripping his hand tight enough to make her point, "it's certainly true," she finishes with a challenging look and raised brow.

"I'm afraid," Dr. Burke says, "that we've let time get away from us today. We have about 15 minutes remaining, and I'd like to spend that time with Rick, if you wouldn't mind, Kate."

"Wait, no," Castle interjects. "I promised Kate to be completely open here. Anything you want to discuss, she should stay and hear it, too."

"Rick, it's okay," Beckett replies while she stands, prompting Castle to rise as well. "Dr. Burke and I talked about this. It's fine, though your offer is sweet," she says as she lifts her head to kiss his cheek.

"One last thing while I have you both here," Dr. Burke says, and Beckett notes that he looks uncharacteristically open – she thinks she detects humor and maybe even some consternation in his look. "I think it is a very good idea for us to continue these sessions, and I am impressed by the effort and commitment that you've both shown already. But, for two people who have both commented on how poorly you communicate, I'm not sure that you're seeing the situation as it actually is. I gave you a push about 40 minutes ago, freeing a conversation that kept bounding on regardless of efforts on my part to intervene," he says, causing slightly embarrassed looks from both Castle and Beckett.

"You might not actually be as bad at this as you think you are. You're welcome to use our sessions as a safe harbor to explore sensitive topics, but you might also think about handling some of these talks on your own," Burke concludes. "Now, Kate, I'll free Rick here within 15 minutes, if you'd like to wait in the lobby."

…

Kate's just finished pretending to read an article about the Southern Revivalist movement in an ancient and dog-eared copy of _Architectural Digest_ when the door opens and Castle emerges. He turns and gives Dr. Burke a hearty handshake with his right hand and a shoulder clasp with his left.

"Good news," Castle says as he approaches Beckett and holds his hands out to help her rise from her chair. "I'm not crazy."

"He's clearly forgotten that acting is in your blood," Beckett argues in return. "Just because you continue to fool others doesn't mean I'll fall for it," she says as she takes his hand and leads him to the elevator that will return them to the parking garage, both of them missing the indulgent smile worn by Dr. Burke's secretary as they depart.

Beckett releases Castle's hand as they step onto the crowded elevator. The presence of so many strangers inhibits conversation, so it's not until they reach the second sublevel of the parking garage and begin the walk to the car that they are alone again. Something about the ride or the silence seems to have put Castle on edge, Beckett notices. Stopping mid-stride, she turns to her partner and prompts "What's up, Castle?"

"We're okay, right?" he asks, looking down.

As Beckett looks at him, she thinks she's never seem him look more adorable, shy and nervous and looking down while his toe scuffs the ground, dislodging bits of grit on the floor of the parking garage. After taking the lead in their conversation about the future, after taking crazy steps to 'ease their path to each other,' after baring his soul to her upstairs, it's just too much to take.

Concerned by her lack of response, Castle is just looking up at her when Beckett flies into him, nearly knocking him flat as she wraps him in the fiercest hug he can remember. He's trying to come up with a glib rejoinder when Beckett puts his mouth to a much preferred use. It's not until Beckett pins him against a pillar that Castle realizes she's been driving him back with her fervor, and Beckett can tell from the added activities of his hands the exact moment he thought to himself 'this is so hot!'

Chucking to herself as she breaks their kiss and rests her forehead against his, Beckett decides that she'll answer his questions with words, too. "Okay?" she asks in an incredulous voice. "Yes, I'd say we're okay. With one small exception, I'd say we're far more than okay, my beautiful man."

Quirking an eyebrow at her possessive reference and releasing a smile that makes it completely apparent that he loves it, Castle takes the bait. "One small exception?"

Grabbing his hand and tugging him back toward the cruiser, Beckett lets out a contented smile and small chuckle. "Yes, one small exception. This 'going slow' thing is becoming pretty difficult," she laughs as she releases his hand and unlocks the car.

Walking to the passenger side of the car and looking over at her, Castle's eyes glisten and he surprises her by extending his hand over the roof of the car rather than firing off an innuendo. As she squeezes his hand, he casts a gaze that burrows right into her heart. "Soon," he says in a gravelly voice. "Very soon."

A beat-up pickup truck squeals down their row of the parking garage, breaking the moment and freeing them both to sink into the cruiser. As Beckett starts to pull out and drive them back to the precinct, Castle casts Beckett a mischievous look. "You know, Beckett, I don't think we're ever going to take the subway again. I like the way you get in parking garages." The roll of her eyes can't stop the smile that stretches her cheeks wide.

* * *

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	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

A/N: Down below.

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* * *

**Friday ~1:30 PM**

"Hey Beckett," Ryan calls over from his desk. "Does Castle have a projector at his place?"

"I'm not sure, Ryan, since I've never been there," she says with some exasperation, having answered many variations of similar questions over the past several days. "But, knowing Castle, if it's electronic and could be used to procrastinate, I'm sure he's got it covered."

"Bro, I'm not going to look at vacation pictures, regardless of how 'darling' Jenny thinks they are," Esposito grouses. He's been in a bad mood all week after his efforts to set up alternative entertainment for the weekend were rebuffed on two fronts, both Elena Martinez and Tori Ellis. That Tori knew Martinez had been approached first almost certainly factored into her lack of availability.

"Not vacation pictures, Javi," Ryan says in response. "You know, for our project."

Nodding, Esposito answers. "I knew what you were talking about, just giving you the business. I've got some stuff, too. What about you, boss?"

"I've still got to coordinate with Castle, but we'll have something, too," Beckett replies, knowing the onslaught that's coming.

"Oh yeah, that's right," Ryan drawls. "You're heading out _early_ to 'work with Castle.' How … diligent of you."

"No, no," Esposito corrects. "You forget that she's also been entrusted with delivering Castle Junior. It's a very … familial outing."

"You guys just don't give up, do you?" Beckett says with some exasperation. "How small and sad your lives must be to speculate endlessly about mine…"

"You're also facing brutal traffic, leaving town on the Friday afternoon of a holiday weekend. Sure you don't want to pile in with us tomorrow morning?" Ryan offers. The thought of sitting between Lanie and Esposito for the trip out to the beach doesn't sound very appealing right now, even if she didn't have solid plans and hopes for her own trip.

"Nope, I'm looking forward to driving with Alexis. Who knows what kind of stories about Castle I can pry loose on the way out?" Beckett says with a mischievous look.

"Okay, I take it back," Esposito says. "If you get dirt on Castle, I'll totally stop teasing about his obvious infatuation with you."

"Liar. Besides, what makes you think I'd share it with you?" Beckett shoots back. "I think blackmail would be far more lucrative in this situation."

"You wouldn't hold out on us, right boss?" Ryan asks as Beckett shuts down her computer and grabs her getaway bag that she brought with her this morning.

"Right, boss?" Ryan asks again as Beckett grabs her laptop and pocketbook and starts walking to the elevator.

"Time to meet up with Alexis," she calls out as she leaves. "See you tomorrow!"

* * *

"Hi Detective Bec-Kate," Alexis hyphenates as she pulls open the door to the loft. "I thought I was ready but just realized that I forgot one thing. I'll be right back," she says as she races up the stairs.

Looking around, Beckett notices that for being 'almost ready,' there are no bags around. As Alexis returns, she sees Beckett's inquisitive look and explains. "Dad took most of my stuff out yesterday. Our car doesn't have much luggage space," she says while handing the keys to Beckett.

"The Ferrari?" Beckett asks after looking at the keys.

"You know Dad," Alexis says with an eye roll. "I'm trying to remember his exact words. He said 'a hot car driven by two hotter women? Traffic should part before you like the Red Sea.' Something like that," Alexis chuckles as she moves them out the door and to the elevator. "He was initially worried that we'd get pulled over just so that the officers could hit on us, but figured that you'd outrank anybody who tried."

Chuckling and shaking her head while following Alexis down to the garage, Beckett asks "Do you want to drive?"

"Drive Dad's baby in the city?" she asks in surprise. "No, I think I'll wait until we're at the beach, if that's okay."

They pile into the car and make small talk while leaving the city. The traffic is bad, but not horrendous, and Beckett thanks the Captain again in her mind for granting a request for a few hours of leave to get a jump start. They're improbably riding the leading edge of traffic, looking to surf it all the way to the beach.

More than an hour into the journey, Beckett's relaxed and happy, chatting with Alexis who is a delightful passenger and navigator.

"… which is why you _always_ ask about ingredients before you agree to taste one of his experimental dishes," Alexis concludes with a laugh. Beckett casts her a sidelong glance, not entirely sure that Alexis isn't messing with her.

"I thought you said he was a good cook?" Beckett says, trying to sound a little betrayed.

"Oh, he's an excellent cook, at least until he gets creative. Then, you need to be on guard," Alexis answers with another laugh. "But don't worry, I'm sure he'll be conventional this weekend. He prides himself on being a good host, so I think he'll curb his penchant for experimentation."

"Was he always a good cook?" Beckett asks, curious about some Castle history.

"For as long as I can remember," Alexis says. "Grams said that he wasn't that way until he and I were on our own and he was worried about what I ate." After a short pause and laugh, she continued. "You know those Baby Bjorn things, where the baby rides on front like it's in a kangaroo's pouch? We've a got a picture back at the loft of me in one of those things, covered in flour with Dad grinning maniacally in his paper chef hat. Grams says that I probably won't remember being taken to all those cooking classes until I go into therapy," she laughs, and Beckett joins her.

"Any other good pictures I should seek out next time I'm in the loft?" Beckett asks with a smile.

Alexis taps her lips while taking a moment to think about it, then brightens. "Yeah, I've got one. Fun pictures and a good example of how sneaky Dad can be. Did you ever build leprechaun traps when you were a kid?"

"Leprechaun traps?" Beckett replies, unable to keep her usual 'what are you talking about now, Castle?' tone out of her voice.

"See? I haven't found anyone else yet who does this, so I'm wondering where Dad got the idea. Anyway, starting when I was in preschool, we'd build leprechaun traps for St. Patrick's Day," Alexis reminisces. "Every year, we'd start planning on March 1st. Have you ever seen Home Alone?" she asks, catching Beckett off guard.

"No, I haven't. Isn't that a Christmas movie?" Beckett asks.

"It is, and we'll have to make sure you see it, catch you up on the classics," Alexis says, sounding much like her father. "Anyway, the protagonist in the movie uses crayons to draw the blueprints for his home defense plan. That's how we'd start every March – breaking out the crayons and designing that year's trap, listing the materials we'd need, and writing a description of how the trap would work."

"I wouldn't normally ask, but this is Castle we're talking about. Did you ever catch anything?" Beckett asks warily, images of hamsters that have been dyed green or stuffed into leprechaun suits all too easy to imagine.

"Never," Alexis responds, some of her elementary-school frustration leaking through. "That 'pesky leprechaun' escaped every time, but he always left behind a trail of green and gold glitter and a pot of foil-wrapped chocolate coins."

While Beckett chuckles, Alexis continues. "As you'll see in the pictures, every year the trap got more elaborate. We brought in trip lines, trap doors, suspension cages rigged to pulleys, funnels, … it was crazy. And the traps got bigger, reaching multiple levels with layers of traps, and bait in the middle."

"Do I even want to know what you used to bait a leprechaun trap?" Beckett interjects.

Again mirroring her father by casting Beckett an incredulous look, Alexis answers a question that clearly didn't need to be asked. "Lucky Charms, of course."

"Oh, of course," Beckett mimics.

"But this is where the sneaky part comes in," Alexis continues. "Did you have Science Fairs when you were a kid?"

"Starting in middle school, yeah," Beckett answers, after casting her memory back, recalling baking soda volcanos, Coke and Mentos combinations, and other projects of dubious scientific merit.

"Ours started in third grade and were always in late March or early April. Our leprechaun traps morphed into Science Fair projects – they'd already incorporated simple devices like ramps, levers, pulleys, and screws. So, I was way ahead of the curve on science projects and already used to sitting down early and planning a project. I didn't make the connection until I was in eighth grade. You should have seen his face when I stormed into the loft and accused Dad of using leprechaun traps to make science fun. He tried to look contrite, but he was too proud that I'd figured out his master plan. So, he confessed, hugged me tight, and mollified my early-teen annoyance with ice cream," she laughs at the recollection, half lost in thought about that day from four years ago.

"You weren't really angry, were you?" Beckett asks, probing a bit to learn more about this fascinating young woman that Castle raised so carefully.

"No, I wasn't," Alexis confesses. "Really, I was irritated that it took me so long to make the connection – to realize that Dad had this planned out for years, probably a decade by that point. And it opened my eyes. I started looking at a lot of our other traditions and realized how careful Dad had been in creating them," she pauses to think for a little while, then continues.

"I guess it was a lost innocence event," Alexis tries to explain. "Probably the first big one post-Santa. Dad jokes around a lot about how I'm the adult in our family, about how precocious I've always been. So much so that I believed it, made it part of who I am. That silly leprechaun trap tradition made me realize how much thought my hyper little boy of a father put into making me who I am. How good he was at guiding me without letting me see it."

It's times like these that Beckett can't deny that she's fallen for Castle. Here she is, chatting with his daughter as they drive off on vacation, and she's misty-eyed about his family stories. And it doesn't escape her notice that he's done similar things on her behalf – put plans in motion with the hope that they'd help later. It makes her even more anxious to reach the beach house and see him again. If he thought the tackle in the parking garage after their session with Burke was a surprise, wait until she knocks him onto his back on the beach. Actually, that presents some interesting scenarios…

Alexis shifts in her seat next to Beckett, drawing her attention away from frothy beach fantasies. Alexis looks a little wistful, too. "So, 'sneaky,' like I said. Don't let your eye off of him for a second," she laughs, and Beckett joins in.

As they settle down, Alexis withdraws her phone and starts typing. "Just sent him a text," she says. "We're probably about an hour out, since traffic slowed us down. This way, he can get the grill going and prep for dinner. It's pretty nice out, so he'll probably set us up outside, at the pool house or in the gazebo."

"You know, he always just casually refers to his beach place, but I'm getting the impression it's a bit larger than a conventional house," Beckett says, wondering about what she'll find out in the Hamptons. "He didn't seem bothered by the number of people coming, so it must be a bit bigger than I'd thought."

"It's pretty big," Alexis agrees. "There are six bedrooms, all on the second floor, and the pool house can serve as a seventh in a pinch. The ground floor has all the fun stuff – the kitchen, dining room, great hall, media room, living room, library, office, and gym. Oh, and laundry."

"Good lord," Beckett assesses. "That's not a house, it's a mansion, a … compound."

This prompts a laugh from Alexis. "It's not that big, especially for the neighborhood, trust me. Plus, it's sound-front, not ocean-front, which helps keep the price down," she says with a facetious laugh.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure we'll be slumming it," Beckett wryly replies.

"Well, except that Dad also bought an ocean-front lot across from the house," Alexis gives an embarrassed smile. At Beckett's raised brow, she explains. "When he was doing research for his Storm books, he developed what he'd call a 'healthy respect' for the ocean. You and I might think of it as a phobia, but that doesn't sound 'manly,'" she smiles indulgently.

"He wasn't comfortable with the thought of a house that could be swept away while he was sleeping in it," Alexis continues. "So, sound-front. But he likes the ocean for swimming, walking, and watching, so when some of his later Storm books did well, he bought the lot to preserve our oceanfront access. There's a small building there with our beach stuff, but it's not a proper house."

Shaking her head, Beckett can't quite comprehend driving a sports car to a beach "house" in the Hamptons. How remarkably strange life can be, she muses.

Alexis again breaks Beckett out of her reverie, speaking in a tentative voice. "The floorplan is kind of U-shaped," she starts, "with a long base and rooms on the ends that extend a little towards the water. My room is in one of the ends, and Dad's is in the other. They're on opposite sides of the house," she says and pauses again, prompting Beckett to wonder what Alexis is thinking about.

"So," Alexis concludes with a blush, "I can't hear anything that happens in his room."

Beckett's sure her face is instantly, radiantly red while she's still turning Alexis' statement and its implications over in her mind. Unless she misunderstands what just happened, Alexis just acknowledged Beckett's relationship with her father and might have even encouraged it.

"Alexis, I …," Beckett starts, before Alexis cuts her off.

"Look, Kate, I don't want any details. I really, _really_ don't. He's my dad," she says with an actress's shudder. "You're both adults and he clearly loves you, so you should …," she trails off, waving her hands in front of her, " … do whatever you two want to do, without worrying about me."

After pausing to let her blush subside and to collect her thoughts, Beckett pursues the topic. "Alexis, are you okay with me becoming more personally involved in your dad's life?"

Alexis doesn't reply immediately, also taking time to think about her answer. "I know he loves you, that he has for a while. And I know that he's a better man because of his time with you at the precinct," she says before taking a deep breath. "But, I also know that he hasn't always been safe in his work with the precinct, and that his heart hasn't always been safe with you."

Beckett acknowledges her point with a nod, but remains quiet.

"He's explained to me how he feels, and his hope that the two of you can become closer. I'd like to see that. I'd like to see how happy he's been lately become his new normal. So, if you're saying that you want to be involved with him, really involved, then I'm okay. Happy even. Just treat him well, please. He's more fragile than he looks," Alexis says, knowingly.

Reaching out, Beckett takes hold of Alexis' hand and gives it a grateful squeeze. "Thank you, Alexis. That means a lot to me," Beckett says in gratitude. "If you have worries or concerns about me, please come and talk to me? I haven't always been good at talking about this stuff, but I'm working on it."

"I think you're better than you realize," Alexis replies. "Do you remember the night Dad and I drove back from DC, when I came up to your apartment? You saw that I was hurting and gave me a hug. I'd just had a really rough week with my mom, but it was you who apologized to me, adult to adult. And it was you who offered comfort, even though it might have seemed a little awkward. I think you have good instincts, maybe you just need a little practice."

"You know, Alexis," Beckett replies, "it's really easy to see why your dad loves you so much."

…

"This is it, here on the left," Alexis says as they approach the entrance to the driveway for Castle's beach house.

"What's the entrance code?" Beckett asks as she drives up to the keypad and lowers the window, ready to get past security and finally see Castle, and his house.

"Eyes, fingers, toes," says Alexis with a smile, which prompts a blank look from Beckett. "Oh, come on! You haven't seen that one, either? Raul Julia was the greatest. Dad is seriously remiss for his lack of attention to your movie education. Which will hurt, because the code always changes to something from a movie we like. Eyes, fingers, toes – two, ten, eleven," Alexis says with a laugh.

Completely missing the movie reference but tucking it away for an IMDB search later, Beckett types in the code and waits for the gate to retract. Still not entirely used to the sensitive clutch, she burns a little rubber as they start down the driveway, but maybe the squeal will get Castle's attention, she thinks.

As they round the bend and the house comes into view, Beckett is taken aback by the beauty and size of the beach house. And by the man stepping out of the front door to greet them.

The car is still coming to a halt when Alexis jumps out and wraps her father in a welcoming hug. Alexis might not have said anything, but Beckett's already figured out the scenario – not wanting her father to have to choose whom to go to first, Alexis jumped out and gave him a quick hug. That left Castle free to come around and offer Beckett his hand to assist her out of the car.

Still anxious to reconnect with him but also mindful of Alexis' sensibilities, Beckett tables her plans to knock Castle flat and burrows into his embrace instead, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He hums gently in happiness and rocks slightly in place. "It's good to see you," Castle rumbles near her ear, and she nods into him, using the motion as an opportunity to drop some kisses on his neck.

"Okay, okay, enough you two," Alexis calls from the door. "Plenty of time for that later. Let's get unpacked so we can be set up for dinner in time for the sunset."

"Bossy," Castle murmurs just loud enough to be overheard, prompting a raised brow and flat look from his daughter before she spins on her heel and heads into the house.

"I do that on purpose, you know," Castle says as he moves to the car to collect Beckett's bags.

"You do what on purpose?" she asks as she trails to the side, content to let him be the gracious host.

"Provide her with opportunities to hone her scathing 'men are so ridiculous' look. She's getting close to your caliber. In another few months, I'll have nothing to fear from freshman boys," Castle gloats as he grabs Beckett's bags.

"The problem with your theory, Castle," Beckett explains as they move toward the house, "is that we have encouraging looks, too," she says as she looks over her shoulder and casts him one.

"Oh, Kate, if I'm a good boy, can I see that look again?" Castle calls out to Beckett as she approaches the door.

"Rick," she says in a sultry voice. "You're much more likely to see that look if you're a bad boy," Beckett says seductively, chuckling when it causes Castle to miss a step on his way to the front door. "Now c'mon," she says while reaching a hand out to him. "However might I convince you to give me the grand tour?"

* * *

**Friday ~9:30 PM**

"Not this time," Alexis says with her hand on Castle's shoulder, preventing from rising. "This time, I clean up. You two enjoy yourselves," Alexis offers as she picks up the dishes and leaves to wash them in the beach house, leaving Castle and Beckett alone on the gazebo.

Kicking back and looking out over the water with a glass of wine in one hand and Beckett's hand in the other, Castle releases a contended sigh, which brings a smile to Beckett's lips. The sun's upper edge has just disappeared over the horizon, with the reflected glory in the clouds starting to darken. "So," he says, "you two had a good drive out from the city?"

"We did," Beckett confirms. "Though we would've made better time if we didn't keep getting pulled over by law enforcement lotharios along the way…," she teases.

"I knew it!" Castle chuckles. "With you, I expect it after seeing men, present company excluded, fawn all over you for years. But Alexis has kind of snuck up on me. I mean, she's my little girl, right? I've always known she was beautiful. But now others are starting to figure it out, too."

"She is a beautiful woman," Beckett confirms while ignoring his other nonsense, "inside and out. We had a great opportunity to talk on the way out. It was a good idea."

"I get those occasionally," Castle agrees amiably, surprisingly not strutting a bit more.

"I heard about some of the other occasions during the drive," Beckett says in a leading voice, catching Castle's attention and drawing an inquisitive look. "Leprechaun traps?" she asks with a laugh.

This prompts an answering chuckle from Castle. "Those were great – I miss the planning and the building. I might have to dust off that tradition this year. What do you think, Kate – do you think you could catch one of the wee little folk?"

"My science fair days are long behind me, Rick," Beckett replies with a smile.

"Oh, she told you about that, did she? Boy, I'd not seen her that upset for a while," he answers with a wince, then smiles again. "Still, totally worth it. We had great fun, and if it reinforced some good habits, so much the better."

"You know Rick, that conversation got me thinking. You've shown your love for different holiday traditions over the years, and Alexis made me realize that you've got lots of traditions for your family, too. But, you must have created most of them, right? When it was just you and Martha, I imagine that life was a little too volatile or uncertain to have many traditions," Beckett speculates.

"You're right," Castle agrees in a wistful voice, casting his memory back to his early days. "We always celebrated the holidays as we could, working around mother's performances and rehearsals, but didn't have many actual traditions. Later, when I was at school, most of the others would head home and I'd hang at school when I couldn't finagle a trip home with a buddy. Along the way, I collected thoughts on what I wanted to do once I had a family. Alexis arrived and I got to put everything into motion," he says with a smile.

"So, how many of these traditions have ulterior motives?" Beckett asks with a grin.

"Probably all of them, if getting us to spend time together isn't considered the main point," Castle replies earnestly. "But a few of them have other agendas, too, aside from science fairs," he concludes with an impish smile.

"Like…?" Beckett prompts.

"You'll have to stick around to find out. Maybe you can detect other objectives along the way," Castle challenges.

"Okay, smart guy," Beckett replies, "how about Memorial Day – any traditions I should know about?"

"Not really," Castle says with a shrug. "The tradition is coming here, welcoming summer, and having at least one meal outside during sunset. It's a nice way to start the summer, and I'm hoping that it's appealing enough that Alexis will want to come out once she's in college."

"That's it?" Beckett asks. "That doesn't sound very sneaky at all."

"Sorry to bore you, Beckett," Castle replies, feigning offense. "What tradition would you like to suggest?"

"I'd like to dance," Beckett decides on impulse, pleased with her quick response.

"There are some good clubs out here," Castle starts, but Beckett cuts him off.

"No, not in town. Just us, here, now," she says as she stands and tugs on his hand to get him out of his chair. Stepping into him, Beckett wraps her arms around his waist and sways, reveling in the simple beauty of a steady heartbeat against her ear, a fading sunset, gull cries in the distance, and a feeling of simple contentment.

"Thank you, Rick," Beckett murmurs into his chest after a few minutes. Castle maintains his hold and tempo as they continue to dance, rumbling in response "I'm happy to dance with you anytime, Kate."

"That's not what I was talking about," Beckett replies softly, "though it is nice. I was thanking you for making this so easy for me, for working so hard for us."

"What do you mean, Kate?" Castle takes the opportunity to spin Beckett in his arms, transitioning into a low dip. It's a move that would certainly make some dance instructor from his past very proud.

Upright and in his embrace again, Beckett struggles to explain. "Six weeks ago I was still struggling with my feelings for you. You remember when I visited Lanie the day Brooke's mom came to the precinct? Oh, she was disappointed in me. I actually thought she was going to finally make good on her threats to smack me." Quieting to continue their dance, she enjoys just listening to the creak of the gazebo floorboards, the slide of sand on wood, the lapping of water at shore's edge, and the steady beating of Castle's heart.

"A week later, I was still a mess. Burke pushed me to define what you were to me, and I evaded, settling on 'best friend.' Then the next day, at the Haunt, and at the law firm – we might've been done before we started," she confesses, while Castle displays uncharacteristically good insight and remains quiet. "And that was all on me."

The movement of their dance helps, Beckett realizes, as she tries to explain what she's thinking and feeling. Castle's gentle kiss to her temple doesn't hurt, either.

"Since then…" Beckett trails off, collecting her thoughts. "Since then, I've had a hard time believing how well everything has gone. And that's thanks to you," she says with a fierce squeeze. "You led our talk, you offered to meet with Dr. Burke even though it freaked you out, and you've been so open…" Beckett pauses again, taking the chance to allow some deep breaths to settle her nerves and dry her eyes. "You even shared Alexis with me."

"You make it sound like you weren't there," Castle chuffs in response. "That's not how I remember it at all." He continues after another spin move, this time in the opposite direction and with an arm movement that snaps her back to him shortly after spinning her away. "I remember someone reaching out after our night at the law firm and guiding us through a difficult conversation with uncharacteristically personal admissions. I remember someone comforting my daughter and showing up at the loft for a surprise visit and leaving with a surprise kiss. I remember someone dragging me to a restaurant and initiating our big talk. And I definitely remember our visit with Dr. Burke, when someone broke into the discussion to affirm her commitment to working on our relationship."

Castle punctuated each of these recollections with a kiss or a caress, but he leans back to look Beckett in the eye when he finishes. "I may talk a lot, but you talk when it matters."

Beckett leans up for a gentle kiss of promise. Her mind is spinning, considering Castle's take on their relationship. Not for the first time, she wonders if they aren't uniquely suited to be together. Despite his words, Beckett knows that she hasn't yet taken the initiative often, but his unique brand of hope and forgiveness have enabled Castle to recognize those offerings, coax a few more out, and collect them as confirmation of their future together.

Beckett stops the dance, standing instead in the protective enclosure of Castle's arms and soaking in the moment. Then, stepping away, she uses one hand to pull Castle along and collects her wine glass with the other. Recognizing the signal to move inside, Castle disengages long enough to blow out the candles in the hanging hurricane lamps, collect his wine glass, and then extend a hand to Beckett for the walk back to the house.

"The boys gave me the business today," Beckett says before they start to walk. Castle notes her tone and asks "More than usual?"

"It felt different," Beckett admits. "I found myself wondering why we shouldn't just tell them about us."

Castle gives her hand a squeeze and takes a moment to collect his thoughts while they stand in the darkened gazebo. "You know me, Beckett. I'd love for the world to know about us. But I don't need it. And I don't need you to go public as a … commitment device or proof. I know you're in this," Castle says, sounding surprisingly content.

"I don't think that's it, Rick," Beckett replies. "It's just – they're our friends. They'll be happy for us, even if they get to tease you mercilessly. And I worry about starting down a bad path again." At Castle's questioning noise, she continues. "You've never taken me to task the way you could and should have about my reaction to your 'heartfelt but poorly timed' confession. I'd like to talk about that, but maybe with Dr. Burke?" Beckett asks in a questioning tone.

"Whenever you like, Kate," Castle hums in her ear. "It's like we talked about him already, though – I'm more concerned about learning how to be better in the future than dwelling on our mistakes in the past."

"But this is where it comes back," Beckett replies. "I'm not sure that I had good reasons for doing it at the time, and we'll talk about those. But, it was also never meant to be a long-term lie. Each day, though, it got harder to tell you, harder to justify having waited that long." She's not done with her explanation yet, but Beckett needs a minute to enjoy his presence, to enjoy that they're here despite all the angst that preceded finally coming together.

"So, I'm worried that if we keep this secret, if we lie about our relationship, it'll be the same thing again. How do we tell them after hiding it for a month? Will it be easier or harder after three months?" Beckett asks as she starts them walking toward the house.

"I think the situations are different, Kate," Castle replies. "Even as friends, they can't expect to be informed of every development in your personal life in real time. Friends understand that you might need some time to get your footing, to see where a new relationship is heading."

"Maybe," Beckett agrees, "but once established, it's not unreasonable to expect to know about a relationship. I've got my footing and I know where I want this relationship to go." Stopping in place, she turns to catch Castle in a hug. "If they asked about us sometime down the road, they'd get the same answer as if they asked tomorrow."

"Really?" Castle asks in what Beckett recognizes as the most hopeful tone of voice she's ever heard.

"Really. That's what I want, what I hope. You 'freed my doubtful mind,' Rick," she says, giving him a squeeze and referring back to his rendition of 'Cold, Cold Heart' on that fateful night at the Old Haunt.

Chuckling, Castle asks "So, you caught that reference, eh?"

"Rick, can I tell you a secret?" Beckett whispers conspiratorially in his ear, taking the chance for a quick nibble on his earlobe, eliciting a fervent nod in return. "Here it is: I'm a detective. I don't actually need hints to be applied with a sledgehammer."

"I don't know about that," Castle argues in return. "If my confession in the cemetery was a surprise…"

"Okay, fine," Beckett huffs. "You might occasionally be the exception to the rule."

Delighted with this response, Castle spins Beckett in his arms again, as they did when they danced in the gazebo.

"So, Castle, I've got to admit that you do have some moves," Beckett says with a wink. "I thought you might have been pulling my leg when you invited me down to Quantico for a night of dancing."

"Oh, Beckett, I'd never tease about dancing," he starts, then adjusts mid-course after noting her dubious expression, even in the dark. "Okay, well maybe I'd tease about anything. But even if I didn't know how to dance, if you'd accepted my invitation, I would've learned by the time you got there."

"You know, Rick, I believe you would," she says with a smile, stepping out of his embrace and resuming their approach to the house.

"So, Kate, did we start a new tradition? A Memorial Weekend dance by candlelight at water's edge?" Castle asks, tugging her hand sideways so that they bump shoulders before he ushers her through the sliding glass door that admits them to the kitchen.

"I'd like that," Beckett says, while marveling internally that the thought of creating a tradition, an expectation of actions to be repeated in the years ahead, doesn't prompt a feeling of claustrophobia or a flight response. This realization causes a slight shift in her perspective as the last piece falls into place, as the unanticipated sense of contentment envelopes her. How remarkable, she thinks, that this is ultimately so easy, so obvious.

Castle is beaming, giving off enough light to illuminate their path the sink where they deposit their glasses, leaving them for morning. With the lights dimmed and silence on the first floor, Beckett realizes that Alexis must have retired to her bedroom. Her bedroom on the other side of the house.

Perhaps it wasn't meant as an encouragement, but that's how Beckett decides she'll take it following her epiphany while thinking about traditions.

"Actually, Rick?" she says, calling his attention to her as he turns off the few remaining kitchen lights. "There is one more tradition I'd like to initiate."

"Oh? What would you like to do?" he says as he walks up to her and takes her hand, intending to lead her up the stairs to his mother's bedroom, where her things were placed upon arrival.

"I'd like to go up these stairs and then to the room at the end of the hall," she says boldly, looking him directly in the eye, "where I'd like to make love with the man I love."

Like a cartoon character struck on the head with a mallet, Castle's initial response is a look of shock. As he comes back to himself, he stammers "But, Alexis…"

"Is okay with whatever paths we choose to pursue," Beckett completes for him. "As long as I treat you well."

"That must have been some drive out from the city," Castle says with a wide smile as his confidence returns. "What exactly does 'treating me well' entail?"

"Why don't we go upstairs and find out?"

* * *

.

A/N: This chapter wasn't in my outline but addresses some issues that have come up. We'll return to the conspiracy plot in the next chapter.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

.

* * *

**Hamptons, Saturday ~4:00 PM**

"You and writer boy seem cozy," Lanie says with a smirk as she and Beckett lay beside the pool. Castle's stepped inside to check on something for dinner, accompanied by Esposito who is refilling drinks for himself and Lanie. Alexis took the Ryans to the ocean, though they should return soon.

Not ready to go public without Castle in attendance, Beckett decides that offense is the best defense. "Says the woman hanging on '_Javi_,'" Beckett replies with a smirk.

"Honey, I never said I wasn't spending time with my boy," Lanie snarks back.

"'Your boy?'" Beckett asks. "That's new. Or old. I can't tell anymore."

"Ha ha. He's my boy for this weekend. Otherwise, who knows. Maybe Tori or Elena will take him off my hands," Lanie says in a dismissive voice.

"That's awfully blasé, Lanie," Beckett notes, looking at her friend over the top of her sunglasses.

"Maybe," Lanie replies. "I know that he asked them both out for the weekend, that he's here because he got shot down. Men are dogs," she says without malice.

"Hmmm. Sometimes," Beckett replies, careful not to get drawn into this topic too deeply.

"But dogs can be trained to do useful things," Lanie says with an eyebrow quirk and a giggle. "Besides, you know why I'm here this weekend?"

"For the pleasure of our company," Beckett answers, "and for a chance to live the high life."

"Well, those too, of course," Lanie agrees while looking around at the house and pool. "That Dr. Tompkins pulled a shift at the hospital this weekend might also have something to do with it."

"_Really_?" Beckett asks, without the faintest idea of who Dr. Tompkins might be. "Do tell."

"Maybe later, not with the boys around," Lanie answers, noticing that Castle and Esposito are making their way out of the house. "I've got to say, Castle is looking pretty cut. Those feds must have him working out. Too bad he hasn't taken his shirt off today. Almost makes you think he's hiding something…," she says while looking pointedly at Beckett.

"Probably bruises from his sparring sessions, knowing his pride," Beckett says, happy that her sunglasses obscure most of her face and that any glow on her cheeks can be explained by the radiant sun overhead.

* * *

**Saturday ~8:00 PM**

"Rick, you're spoiling us rotten. Your house is gorgeous, your daughter is a delightful hostess, and that meal was fantastic," Jenny gushes. "What was it called?"

"I'll need to check the recipe," Castle answers while relaxed in his chair at the head of the dining room's elegant table. "I think it's called 'fish.'"

"Honestly, Dad," Alexis says as she swats his shoulder, walking by after refilling the water pitcher. "Jenny, that was herb-grilled John Dory with rosemary aioli. Something new in Dad's repertoire, at least to me."

"Delicious and healthy," Lanie says with a nod. "And with plenty of vegetables, too," she says with a pointed look at Esposito, who scowls in return.

"Sorry, Espo, I should have made you a breadburger," Castle laughs while Esposito rolls his eyes at hearing his comment from the Cartwright case recycled.

"I don't want to spoil the fun," Castle says, "but maybe we should attend to business? If we start now, we can be done in time for a walk on the beach or a late-night visit to the pool or hot tub, and tomorrow will be completely open for rest and relaxation."

Reluctant nods appear around the table, when Alexis interjects. "Dad, why don't you go set up. I'll clear the table, but then I'd like to join you."

Beckett, surprised, looks at Castle to see his reaction, and she's not the only one. Castle and his daughter are looking at each other, carrying on a conversation with their eyes and facial expressions alone. Finally, Castle sighs and relents. "Okay, pumpkin. You know how I feel about this. But your points are valid. We'll get set up, but we won't start until you join us."

"I'll give you a hand," Jenny offers, echoed by Lanie. With that, the group breaks up, with Castle leading the detectives into the media room. A sectional sofa faces an interior wall, with sinfully comfortable bean bag chairs on the floor in front of the couch. Castle flips some switches at a wall console, causing roller blinds to descend in front of the windows and a projection screen to lower in front of the wall. Withdrawing a cable from a cabinet, Castle plugs in a laptop and a USB receiver for flash drives.

"'Sito, you want to go first?" Castle asks, since Esposito is standing closest to the setup.

"Sure," he replies amiably, taking a flash drive from his pocket and plugging it in. After bringing up the directory and loading two files, he says "All set."

As they wait for the others to join them, Beckett approaches Castle. "Are you sure you want Alexis to be a part of this?" she asks with concern.

"No," Castle sighs. "But we talked about it on Wednesday. I warned her that we had work to do out here, work that I didn't want her to be a part of. She asked enough questions to figure out that it was about you, that it went back to what I was working on in my study. And she argued passionately to be included."

"She knew about your murderboard in the loft?" Beckett asks, still feeling sick about the risks that Castle took.

"Yeah, although I didn't appreciate how much she knew until our conversation this week. She's sneaky," Castle says in a tone of grudging admiration.

"So she convinced you that she should be included?" Beckett pushes.

"Not initially, but I promised to think about it. I'm not comfortable with it. In fact, it scares me to death. But, as she pointed out, she's an adult, she cares about you too, and she wants to help keep me safe. In return for a promise of inaction on her part, she gets a seat at the table," Castle says.

Before Beckett can probe for further details, Alexis walks into the room with Lanie and Jenny, the latter carrying a large bag. Esposito stands by the computer while the others find seats on the couch and Alexis sinks into one of the bean bags.

"Before we get started," Beckett says, "I should provide Alexis with a little background. Lanie, I'm not sure how much you know either – we've been kind of trying to keep this information under wraps, because it's dangerous."

"I figured something was up with your mom's case," Lanie replies, looking peeved. "I'll assume that I'm only hearing the details now because of some misguided effort to keep me safe, but I trust that won't happen again."

"Okay, Lanie. I'm sorry. But you might regret jumping on board. Here's the short story: we think that Senator William Bracken is behind my mom's murder, Captain Montgomery's murder, and my shooting," Beckett states bluntly. Oddly, while Lanie looks shocked, Alexis merely nods.

"We've got different pieces that we've been looking into. Maybe fresh ideas will help, so jump in. Espo's going to start," Beckett says while sitting down on the couch.

"'Kay," Esposito says by way of an introduction, "I was looking into two things – Castle's assumption that Bracken was the guy based on his attempt to frame the mayor, and Bracken's military background."

"Hold on," says Alexis. "What about Uncle Bob?"

Noticing that Lanie's also interested, Castle provides a quick recap. "Someone tried to frame Bob for murder, and the same guy who warned me about Beckett working her mom's case also warned me about the conspiracy against Bob. Based on that connection, we went looking for people who would benefit from Bob's downfall."

"This guy who warned you," Alexis asks, "is he the reason you were doing all that work on Kate's case at home?"

Castle nods, while Beckett watches Alexis' face carefully. There doesn't appear to be any anger there, just a pensive look as she takes in the information.

"Right, so I went through Castle's list of politicians who might gain from sabotaging the Mayor," Esposito says while displaying a ranked list of politicians on the screen. "No one looks better than Bracken. In fact, no one's close. So, he's the top of that list. But we haven't looked into any other people, like business leaders or campaign advisors. I mean, this could be like the 'Pelican Brief,' where someone with business interests messes with Bob to keep their tax breaks or something. So, a weak checkmark for Bracken, I guess."

"You created a point system to rank the names based on how likely they were to be involved?" Ryan asks while looking at the screen. "Nice," he praises as Esposito nods and offers up a fist for a bump with his partner.

"That's the boring part. Now, let's talk about dudes with guns," Esposito says while rubbing his hands together, happy to be back in his old element.

"As Castle mentioned, Bracken and Wilson overlapped with their army service," Esposito starts, but Castle cuts in.

"Sorry," Castle says to Esposito before turning to alternate his look between Lanie and Alexis, "Another quick piece of background. We think Wilson, one of my handlers at the FBI, is working for Bracken. Their connection goes back to prep school, and 'Sito was looking into leads from their time together in the military." Again, Alexis looks pensive while taking in the information, while Lanie looks worried.

Just as Esposito is about to continue his report, Alexis interjects. "What about Agent Britton?"

Esposito's eyebrows shoot up and he asks what Beckett's thinking. "You know Britton?"

"I met her on our DC trip. She seemed nice. Is she in on this, too?" Alexis asks, and everyone turns to look at Castle.

"I think there might be trouble on that front," Castle admits while he runs a hand through his hair. "I thought I had her contained. I don't know if she's dirty or not," Castle says and Esposito snickers until Lanie gives him a disgusted look. "Someone either instructed her to secure me or let it be known that bringing me on board would be appreciated. She's ambitious, so she might be looking for kudos or she might be part of Bracken's group. But she's getting frustrated that I haven't responded to her recruiting attempts or pursued her as a muse."

This time it's Alexis who articulates Beckett's thoughts. "'_Recruiting attempts_,' Dad? Do I want to know?"

Shockingly, Castle is blushing furiously, more radiantly red than Beckett can ever remember seeing him. "No," he says as she shakes his head vigorously, "you absolutely do not want or need to know. Let's move along, okay? Espo?"

Well, that's an interesting response, Beckett thinks, making a note to follow up on this topic later.

"Neither of them – Bracken or Wilson – was in the army very long," Esposito picks up. "Just under five years. Their jackets aren't especially interesting, but they rubbed elbows with some interesting guys," Esposito says as alt-tabs to a Word document into which he's pasted some pictures. "This is Ryan Crawford, their CO. About a year after Bracken turned out, Crawford took an early discharge to join Vantus Ventures, a military contracting organization." With this, Esposito advances to a screenshot of the corporate website and its distinctive double-V logo.

"Vantus provides a lot of services for the military, from construction to logistics support. Crawford went into their private security division." Esposito flips to another page in the document, a list of names. "Here are personnel that Tori's been able to link to Vantus' security operations – they don't publicly identify their staff." With the click of another button, the same list appears, but this time the name Howard Longton is highlighted. "Pictures are even harder to find than names, but we found an interesting one of our friend Howard here," Esposito says while he hits the page down button with a flourish to advance to the picture.

"That's Lockwood!" Ryan says, rising from his seat and pointing at the projection of a newspaper photo from a military base somewhere in the middle east. "That bastard…" Ryan trails off, remembering his captivity. Jenny, surprised to see her husband so upset, reaches up to tug on his elbow. While she gets Ryan back onto the couch and tries to soothe him, Alexis asks "Who is Lockwood?"

"Someone who was involved in this," Castle offers vaguely. "He captured the boys and tried to take a shot at Beckett."

"Yeah, until your dad beat the hell out of him," Esposito chuckles and walks over to give Castle a slap on the back. Castle's attention, though, is captured by the incredulous look on his daughter's face.

"What, you don't blink an eye when we say that our senator is a homicidal maniac with corrupt FBI agents trying to derail or seduce me, but you can't believe that I could hold my own in a fight?" Castle chides his daughter.

"Dad, he looks like a professional. You're a _writer_," she replies as if he doesn't know this.

"I was motivated. My friends were in trouble," Castle says with a shrug. He's surprised by Jenny, who had stood and approached while he was focused on his daughter. Bending to drop a kiss on Castle's cheek, she quietly says "Thank you, Rick. I didn't know the details, but thank you for taking care of Kevin."

Embarrassed by the attention, Castle looks at Esposito who recognizes his unstated plea. "Anyway, we haven't found any other names, but we did find one other connection. Bracken's on the Armed Services and Veteran's Affairs committees. Naturally, this puts him in contact with the military and its contractors." With one last key stroke, Esposito advances the file to another picture from another newspaper, this time of Bracken shaking hands with Crawford at some awards ceremony.

"So, what do we have?" Castle asks rhetorically. "A little more support that we're pointed at the right guy, and an idea of where his attack dogs come from."

"Circumstantial, if that," Beckett notes, "but still forward movement from where we were. Nice work, Javi. I don't suppose you know anyone in Vantus?"

"I know people who have ex-squadmates inside, but I don't know anyone," Esposito replies. "I haven't pushed much for fear of tipping our hand, though."

"Good call," Castle says. "Other than keeping an eye on Vantus and any other contractor outreach by Bracken, I'm not sure how much more there is to do in this direction for now."

Nodding while shutting down his files and plucking his flash drive from the port, Esposito walks over to the couch and drops down next to Lanie while looking pleased with himself.

"Kevin, you want to go next?" Castle asks.

"Actually, Castle, I think my work might build on yours, thanks to Jenny. Why don't you go," Ryan replies while his wife blushes slightly at having been pulled into the discussion.

"Why don't you …," both Beckett and Castle say to each other at the same time, prompting smirks from around the room and a faked retching sound from Esposito, who then grumbles "Great, they even do it outside the precinct."

"How about I load the files and you talk?" Castle offers while he walks over to Beckett's place at the couch and offers a hand to help her up. At her nod, he moves to the computer while Beckett starts talking.

"Castle and I split the task of tracking down 'Mr. Smith,' the man who contacted Castle to have him stop me from looking into my mom's case, and later with information about the conspiracy against the mayor," Beckett starts.

Looking at Alexis and Lanie, she provides some background. "We know that there is incriminating information on whoever is behind this – Bracken, we think – and that Captain Montgomery had it and used it to protect me. After he was killed, the file went to Smith, who arranged the same deal after I was shot. We've been trying to figure out who Smith is based on a few facts: he knew and was trusted by Montgomery, he's not known by Bracken, and he has some reason that he's set up this deal rather than just turned the file over to the authorities."

"Bracken was in the DA's office when my mom was killed, so he'd probably know Smith if he was there, too. We also don't think he was at the precinct. So, we started with public defenders," Beckett summarizes as Castle displays their work on the screen.

"Castle came up with a ranking system to group likely candidates based on what we know from his calls and meeting with Smith," Beckett starts, then realizes her mistake.

"Wait a minute," Alexis cuts in immediately, looking at her father. "You met with him?"

Immediately understanding the nature of her concern, Castle doesn't shirk from his daughter's glare. "Yes, I did," he says directly. "The circumstances weren't ideal, but I needed to meet with him and I did so as safely as possible. This is one of the reasons I didn't want you involved – I know you're unhappy, but I won't apologize for trying to protect the people who are important to me."

Castle's statement starts another nonverbal round of communication, but this time it's Alexis who relents after a few moments. "Okay. But I'd like to talk about this tomorrow," she says to Castle's nod.

"We started with 255 names. Excluding the ones who have died or are obviously not involved, the rest are grouped into four categories. Our top group – the one we think is most likely to include Smith, if he's here – has 12 names. We're digging more into these 12, but that's where we are now."

"So, like Espo," Castle summarizes, "we've made a little progress, but anything we've got or will find is still based on the starting assumptions being right. If Smith didn't do public defense work, he's not in here."

"Maybe I can help with that," Ryan speaks up. "I mentioned last week that Jenny had a good idea. I brought her into the loop on our plan, and she's the one that made contact with Evelyn, in the grocery store," Ryan says while looking at his wife proudly.

"It seemed like something so ordinary that no one would notice if two women bumped into each other and started chatting at the market," Jenny says shyly.

"But this part is even better," Ryan says excitedly. "Tell them what you talked about."

"I told Evelyn that her husband had a friend that he trusted with some important documents that Kev was trying to find for an investigation," Jenny says, warming to her topic and more at ease with the investigators since they're listening intently. "She didn't have any ideas about secret hiding places, but she also said that she didn't know all of his friends, even some of the ones that came to their wedding."

With that, she reaches into the bag that she brought with and takes out three albums.

"Bro," Esposito says to his partner, "what did I say about looking at pictures this weekend?"

"Shut it, Espo," Beckett chides, "this is brilliant. I don't suppose she has an invitation list?"

"No," Jenny says, "but she did have this. A seating chart."

Eagerly grasping the seating chart and walking over to the computer driving the projection, Beckett starts comparing names while Castle and the others start flipping through photos of the Montgomery wedding. Given her raw emotions right now, Beckett's happy with the division of labor, giving her a chance to drill right into their target list while avoiding pictures of her joyous Captain in his prime.

As she encounters her first match, she feels a thrill of excitement. Even if it's not Smith, it's some confirmation that their approach might have some foundation. It's ironic, because every subsequent match makes her more confident in the approach while also increasing the target pool and making the job of finding Smith that much more difficult. When she finishes the comparison, she has nine matches, three of which are in their top category. She's about to tell Castle when she looks up and sees that he already knows – she'd forgotten that the file in which she was working was projected onto the screen, so everyone could watch her progress.

"Kate, may I see the chart?" Castle asks. "We might be able to use it to find pictures of these guys."

"Dad, let me scan it, then we can project it while we look through all of the albums," Alexis offers before taking the paper into the den and returning with a flash drive a few minutes later. With the chart on the screen before them, they all set to flipping through photos.

It's a slow process that's ultimately frustrated by the fact that most pictures were taken after the reception meal was served, when people had shifted around or were on the dance floor. There are undoubtedly pictures of all nine of the matches in here, but they can't connect the pictures to the names. After a while, Castle takes to simply flipping through the photos in the hopes that one will spark a memory from the parking garage.

"They're all starting to look the same," Castle says as he slumps back on the couch and rubs his eyes. "Don't get me wrong, Jenny – this is a gold mine, and I'd be willing to bet that Smith is in here, probably as one of our nine. I was just hoping that I'd recognize him right away, but nothing's clicking. I'll take another look in the morning with a clear head."

"Taking a break sounds good," says Lanie. "I think I hear the hot tub calling my name."

"Is there anything else we should talk about tonight?" Beckett asks the assembled group. General head shakes and negative responses follow as Castle shuts down the computer and projector. The group is about to disperse when Esposito interjects.

"Wait a minute, there is something we need to talk about," he says, sitting back down on the couch and signaling his partner to do the same. "It's on a different topic, but it's important," he says earnestly.

Taking a cue from his tone, everyone returns to their places. Once everyone is settled, Esposito looks around the room at everyone until finally focusing on Castle. "We need to hear about how you convinced a group of feds to go skinny dipping."

"Oh, Dad…," Alexis says as she hangs her shaking head in shame while failing to hide her smile.

Beckett looks around to see that neither Jenny nor Lanie seem surprised by this reference. Apparently, the story has already enjoyed wide circulation.

"I don't really think I want to get into that…," Castle trails off while looking at Beckett.

"Come on, Castle," Beckett replies with sly voice. This is the perfect opportunity to set the stage, she thinks, if Castle can follow along. "We're all friends. I'm sure that anything that's discussed here wouldn't get back to work."

"I don't know," Castle says, obviously playing along. Mentally, Beckett claps her hands in appreciation and anticipation. "This kind of information gets out, it could affect my welcome at the precinct," he says.

"Castle, you know we wouldn't get you kicked out," Ryan says.

"Yeah, Castle, we're tight. Anything happens here, no need for anyone else to know about it," Esposito agrees.

"Really?" Castle asks. "So, anything you learn here will be held in confidence?"

Nearly vibrating in excitement, the boys nod happily. Lanie, though, looks like she knows something's going on.

"Nah, you guys couldn't keep quiet. There's got to be a bet in play – there's no way you'd stay quiet if it meant passing on a bet," Castle avers.

"Look, Castle," Esposito says. "I swear that nothing we learn here tonight – this weekend – will get back to the precinct, even if a bet's involved. What happens in the Hamptons stays in the Hamptons," Esposito says with an emphatic nod. Castle looks at Ryan, who nods and says "Me, too." Securing a hesitant nod from Lanie, Castle relents.

"Okay. It's not that big a deal, I just convinced them that it would be fun," Castle says.

Ryan and Esposito shoot him flat looks, refusing to move until they get a better answer.

"Sorry, guys, but what can I say?" Castle asks. "I'm a _very_ convincing guy."

"That's so much BS, bro," Esposito says, disappointed but still angling for the story. "Exhibit A disputing your ability to talk people into stuff is sitting right here," he says as he nods at Beckett, who raises a brow in response.

"What do you mean, 'Sito?" Castle asks, clearly confused, or at least acting that way.

"He's saying that you're not smooth enough to talk people into doing things," Ryan explains for his partner. "If you were, you would've used your Jedi mind tricks on Beckett long before getting a bunch of feds to go swimming."

"Well, Rick," Beckett says as she rises from her seat and approaches him. The ladies in the room seem to have tweaked on her use of Castle's first name, but the boys still seem clueless. "They've got you there," she says as she reaches her hands out to him. "Just admit defeat quickly. I want to go for a walk on the beach before we go to bed."

Using Beckett's hands to pull himself upright, he only means to give her a quick kiss but Beckett draws it out for the benefit of those in the room. Castle pulls back and gives her a devilish smile before he puts an arm around her to lead her out of the room. Stopping just before the door, Castle looks back and says "You win, guys. Just remember that nothing goes back to the precinct, even if a bet's involved."

Beckett swears that she actually giggles as they walk toward the sliding glass door, leaving behind four stunned adults and one smirking teen.

"We're going to pay for that later. You realize that Lanie's going to grill you for details tomorrow, right?" Castle says with a chuckle as they step out into the night.

"Well, then I guess I'd better have something to tell her," Beckett answers as she tugs his hand and leads Castle toward the water.

* * *

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	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below

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_"We're going to pay for that later. You realize that Lanie's going to grill you for details tomorrow, right?" Castle says with a chuckle as they step out into the night._

_"Well, then I guess I'd better have something to tell her," Beckett answers as she tugs his hand and leads Castle toward the water._

* * *

**Hamptons, Sunday ~8:30 AM**

"Again," Beckett demands of an exhausted Castle.

"You're kidding, right?" Castle wheezes, trying to catch his breath while using the crook of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. "I thought you loved me, not that you were trying to kill me."

"With you, I'm not sure those two feelings can be separated," Beckett parries in response. "Now quit stalling. Just one more time and we can get cleaned up for breakfast."

"At this rate I'll be exhausted for the rest of the day," Castle grumbles while steeling himself for one final round.

"Oh, Castle," Beckett says breathily, "you need to have more faith in me. I'm sure I can coax a little more effort out of you later." Then, switching to a drill instructor's voice, she chides "Now hit the damn bag!"

Rolling his shoulders and lifting his arms, Castle moves in on the heavy bag that Beckett's stabilizing, releasing a series of strikes. Though his exhaustion is apparent (and not unrelated to a night with little sleep), Beckett's happy with his progress and impressed that he's hanging in there and by his stamina. She's glad that his FBI training spurred Castle's fitness kick and is hoping that they can stick with it, both for his safety on casework and for his general healthiness. Plus, he's got this fantastic home gym – they'd already gone for an hour – he on the elliptical and she on the treadmill – before moving to the heavy bag.

Lost in thought, Beckett's knocked back a few inches when Castle pours everything he has left into a last few shots. Panting through a tired smile, he lets his hands fall to his side while uttering "No mas, no mas."

"Okay, Castle, no mas," she says with a smile, reaching out for his hand. Unwrapping it before kissing his knuckles, she offers praise for his efforts. "I'd heard that you did well defensively when sparring, and you seem to have some power and technique to your strikes. Now we just need you to be more willing to take some shots while you're hanging in there."

"Be more offensive. Got it," Castle says with a twinkle in his eye, still panting.

Shaking her head and reaching for his other hand, Beckett continues to unwrap Castle when her stomach releases a ferocious growl.

"Scary," Castle chuckles as he leans down to kiss Beckett's cheek, thankful for the time she's spent with him and that he can so freely express his affection.

"Sorry," Beckett chuckles. "We've probably burned thousands of calories since last night," she says with a saucy look. "Time to feed me."

As they move to leave the gym, Castle offers an alternative. "How about a quick walk along the water? Then we can come back and get a late breakfast going for everyone."

"How about no," he hears in response, but not from Beckett. Looking up, he sees Lanie waiting for them, dressed casually in shorts and a t-shirt. While giving them both the evil eye with arms crossed, she dictates an alternative plan. "Castle, walk with your daughter – she'd like to have some dad time. Kate and I will take care of breakfast. We have some things to discuss."

"I think I would be a pretty poor colleague if I left my partner alone in such a dangerous situation," Castle banters lightly, earning the complete focus of Lanie's glare. Beckett's surprised when Castle doesn't wilt or make a joke – he was actually serious, fully willing to stand there beside her.

"It's okay, Rick," Beckett offers with a sweet smile, leaning up to kiss an admittedly sweaty cheek. "Lanie and I will be fine, go spend some time with your daughter."

"Okay," Castle replies, confident that they're on the same page. "But why don't you guys walk? We're the hosts, we'll take care of breakfast."

"Castle, get out of here," Lanie chides. "Alexis already set everything up for us, so we're good. She's waiting by the pool. So: Get. Moving," she says while making prodding motions with her hands. With a parade ground salute, and following a quick kiss to Beckett's cheek, Castle follows orders and heads out.

"So." Lanie says, transferring her baleful stare to Beckett as they walk into the kitchen. "Last night wasn't just an elaborate prank on us, then?"

"No," Beckett says with a small smile. "It was just a bonus."

"I see," Lanie says, still serious, as she moves to start mixing batter for waffles. Beckett retreats to the cutting board to set into the fruit. "And how long has this been going on?"

She's pissed, Beckett realizes, hurt and angry that she didn't know before the boys. "Long enough to know that this is what I want," Beckett says softly. "Long enough to know that he makes me happy."

Lanie's whipping the batter ferociously, setting them up for the flattest waffles in history. "I'll tell you some of the details, but just between us, right?" Beckett offers, knowing that she's making some ground with Lanie as the assault on the batter lessens by a degree.

"I guess it starts back on Brooke's case, when I came to see you and you warned me about Castle's opportunities. It might not have seemed like it at the time," she says to her friend, who's looking a little happier knowing that she had a role here, "but that got me thinking. It almost all blew up in my face in the huge fight we had when he told me what he'd figured out about my mom's case," Beckett starts to explain, but Lanie cuts her off.

"Javi explained some of that to me last night. He didn't describe it as a fight – he said that you unloaded on Castle. He was shocked that Castle bothered to call you guys from Quantico. Javi figured he was gone and not coming back," Lanie reveals.

"We had a good talk before he left," Beckett says, shocked by the external confirmation of how close this all came to ending. She's also surprised that in her recollection their terribly tense walk to their park is starting to take on a rosy glow, a happy memory despite how uncomfortable it had started. "And then he did call from Quantico. Actually, his being away helped. We just talked, without the pressure of having to do anything. I found myself really looking forward to his calls, found that I really missed having him around."

"And then he was back," Lanie prompts as she pours batter into the waffle iron. The waffle iron that produces waffles that look like the Death Star. Only Castle, she thinks.

"And then he was back," Beckett confirms. "We had a talk and decided to move forward, together," she says quietly as she transfers the fruit she's cut into a serving bowl.

"That sounds a little … boring. I would have expected some bodice-ripping explosion, given the way the two of you have circled each other for the last few years," Lanie says with a quirked brow. Thankfully, her attention is pulled away by the waffle iron's beep as it declares itself ready to be unloaded again.

"Then I haven't explained myself well," Beckett says, "because it was perfect. We were at a restaurant when we started, and Castle just laid it out – told me how he felt, how he'd like us to go forward. It was beautiful," Beckett confesses as she blushes and looks down.

"Oh, honey," Lanie says, finally mollified, moving to give her friend a hug. "I'm so happy for you. And Castle."

Hearing some movement upstairs, they separate and get back to making breakfast. Knowing that her time is limited, Lanie can't resist trying to get one more bit of information out of her friend while she continues cooking. "So, Kate," she says, and the change in her tone telegraphs the type of question she's about to ask. "Was it worth the wait?"

Beckett's been wondering how to answer this question, which she's known for years would be among one of the first that her friend would ask if a relationship with Castle ever happened. Setting the fruit bowl on the table and returning to collect the plate of waffles, Beckett hears her colleagues approaching and figures that she can take advantage of the closing window on their private chat.

"Lanie, what do you get when you take someone who's got a physical talent, keen interest, and lots of practice?" Beckett asks as a sleepy looking Esposito and the Ryans enter the dining area.

"An athlete?" Lanie hazards a guess, not entirely sure where Beckett's question was pointed.

Moving toward the table with the waffles, Beckett pauses next to her friend and bends towards her ear. "An Olympian," she says, drawing out the first syllable before she resumes her walk to the table, leaving her friend wide-eyed and sputtering behind her.

"Hey Beckett, shouldn't Castle have made you pancakes this morning?" Esposito asks with a smirk shortly before a Death Star bounces off the side of his head.

* * *

**Hamptons, Sunday ~3:00 PM**

"What did you tell Lanie?" Castle asks from his lounge chair beside the pool.

"Hmmmm?" Beckett asks, unable to open her eyes despite all the solar energy she's collecting.

"Lanie keeps looking at me funny," Castle worries.

"Maybe 'cause you're funny looking?" Beckett suggests. "I'm sure you're imagining things. Now, it feels like I'm burning a little bit. Is there anything I could do, anything at all that I could promise, to get you to rub some lotion on me?"

* * *

**Hamptons, Monday ~10:30 AM**

"Definitely spoiled," Jenny says as she finishes her slice of quiche. "What a wonderful weekend – I can't believe it's time to head back already," she laments.

"Anytime, Jenny," Castle says. "I can't believe that I didn't have you all out earlier. We'll definitely do this again. We didn't even get to half the things there are to do here, and we didn't even get into town."

Walking back to the table, Beckett pauses behind Castle's chair and puts her hands on his shoulders. It gives her an irrational thrill to touch him like this, and to be able to do so in front of their friends and Alexis. Squeezing his shoulders while she talks, Beckett can feel his low hum of appreciation. "Castle said that there are good dance places out here, too. Maybe next time we can talk the guys into a night out on the town."

Grimacing, Ryan says "Sounds great" with less than complete enthusiasm.

"Kevin, don't tell me you don't…," Castle trails off as his phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket and Beckett stops the ministrations of her hands when she sees Jordan Shaw's name on the screen. Casting each other a quick look, Castle accepts the call while standing up and stepping into the next room while motioning Beckett to follow.

"Hi Jordan, what's up?" Castle asks. After a brief pause during which Jordan speaks, Castle sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "What happened to them?" he asks, prompting Beckett's eyebrows to rise.

"Look, Jordan, this wasn't part of the deal. I can't spend all of my time away from home. I appreciate that you're shorthanded, but…," Castle trails off while Jordan presumably cuts in again.

"Alright, I'll come out. But my daughter graduates at the end of next week, and there's no way I'm going to miss that. So, I'm coming back by next Wednesday at the latest, regardless of where the investigation is," Castle declares. During a pause in which he listens to the phone, Castle makes eye contact with Beckett and shrugs.

"Okay, so I should book a flight to Ontario, California? You already did?" Castle asks, looking a little ticked off. "She is? You know I'm out at the beach, right? Yeah, that's about twenty minutes out. Yeah, so about ten minutes away now. This was awfully presumptuous of you, Jordan." Another pause to listen. Whatever Jordan's saying to Castle, it seems to be softening him a bit, at least based on his posture.

"Okay, look, I'd better get moving, I still have to pack. Yeah, I'll pass your regards to the team, since they're all here. Hey, you're in Chicago – get out to New York and you're invited, too. Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll see you in about … seven or eight hours, I guess. Later," he says as he disconnects the line.

"Someone nasty is on a tear in Southern California, so Jordan's team is heading out," Castle explains as they walk back to the kitchen.

"That was the feds," he tells the room. "Britton's on her way here to collect me and we've only got about ten minutes. I'm not terribly comfortable with her coming onto the property, so I want to be ready when she gets here. If I'm not…," he trails off.

"I'll stay with her," Beckett says. Keeping an eye on Britton has risen on her priority list after Castle's comments from Saturday night.

"Thanks, Kate," Castle says while the boys make gagging motions at his use of her first name. "Espo, do you think you could drive one of my cars back? Kate and Alexis can take the other one. Pumpkin, can you close the house up?" At Alexis' nod, Castle takes off for the garage to grab his go bag from the Mercedes before heading upstairs to clear his room.

Nearly ten minutes later, there's a buzz at the intercom. Alexis answers and sends the command for the security gate to retract, and about two minutes later Agent Britton is knocking on the door.

"Agent Britton, good to see you again," Beckett says as she opens the door and extends her hand. "Welcome to the Hamptons."

"I wish I were staying," Britton says as she cranes her neck to take in the view from the door. "Is Castle getting ready? Shaw said that she'd call him, but I think she waited as long as she could to make sure they needed to interrupt Castle's holiday weekend."

It takes Beckett a minute to realize what it is about this conversation that's bothering her, but then it clicks into place – it's Britton's continual reference to "Castle." It's the same intonation that Beckett herself uses. So, what? Is Britton trying to sound like she could treat Castle the same way, that she could somehow step into Beckett's position? If that's her game, it's a sad one, Beckett thinks, or just a little too late. Beckett's not worried about Castle's affections, so she's not jealous. But she is territorial – he's her partner, dammit, and she's starting to tire of the FBI's presumption on his time.

"Mind if I look around Castle's place?" Britton asks, drawing Beckett's attention again. "Sure, I'll give you the tour," Beckett offers as she's unable to think of a compelling reason to say no. With luck, Castle will be down shortly to interrupt their perambulations.

They are about to enter the third room when Castle rounds the corner with Alexis in tow. "Hi Dani," Castle offers. Greetings are exchanged and the four of them head out the door to Britton's sedan, which waits in the circular drive with the trunk already open.

Patting his pockets in vain, Castle excuses himself to collect something he left in the Mercedes, asking Britton and Alexis to wait for him while he runs in to retrieve it. As soon as they enter the garage, Castle steps out of view of the windows and draws Beckett with him.

"I'm sorry about this," he says quickly. "I'm making inroads with Jordan, and even though this case is poorly timed, it might give me the chance to sound her out about our project." Looking down for a moment, his gaze is earnest and shy when it returns to her. "The timing is pretty bad, too. I'm not really ready to be away from you yet," he confesses. "Think of me?"

"I've never been able to stop, Rick," Beckett confesses in return. "Now, go solve this thing quickly and come back to me in one piece. Be safe," she says.

"You, too," he returns.

"For goodness sakes, just kiss him already!" Lanie surprises them from the doorway. "His ride is leaving!"

Castle's chuckling when Beckett grabs him fiercely and follows her friend's direction. Maybe she overdid it, she thinks as she watches him weave his way back to Britton's car, looking slightly drunk. Then, after a hug to his daughter, Castle slides into the sedan and they pull away.

Ten minutes later, Beckett's face is grim when she sends him a text. **Good luck in CA and make sure you listen to Jordan!** It's an innocuous text, but that's because it employs the code words they developed for Castle's trip to Quantico. He'll know that the word 'listen' means that they found surveillance devices in the house after Britton's visit, and Beckett's concerned that she was with Britton the whole time and hadn't noticed a thing.

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Thursday ~11:30 PM**

"I miss Castle," Beckett hears Ryan say just before his head hits his desk.

"You need some coffee?" Beckett offers, knowing that Ryan still hasn't quite mastered the machine that Castle provided, despite the series of tutorials he's received.

"No, I need something to distract me from this case," Ryan admits.

"Buck up, man," Esposito says. "We've got to be close to breaking this thing. Besides, Castle's probably sitting on beach right now, or cruising Sunset Boulevard."

"No," Beckett says sadly. "His case is worse than ours."

"Worse than a triple homicide involving a kid?" Esposito growls in response.

Rubbing her eyes and then looking up, Beckett's wondering how much she should share of what Castle's told her about his case in Southern California. "They had a new ME at their first crime scene. He broke down and quit the next day. They brought the old ME back – a guy who'd retired after 25 years of service – and he threw up all over the crime scene they found today."

"Oh, crap," Ryan says in response, while Esposito looks down at his desktop. If a seasoned ME lost it, that crime scene must have been horrible. Beckett regrets saying anything – while it shut down speculation about Castle taking it easy on the West Coast, her words have added an oppressive weight to their already burdened shoulders.

"Let's give it until midnight, then we need some rest," Beckett says, deciding that the only way to proceed is to focus on their case and hope Castle does well with his. She sends her best wishes for him heavenward, then returns to focus on the phone records she's poring over.

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Friday ~11:45 AM**

"Alexis?" Beckett says as she catches a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye.

"Hi, Kate," Alexis says as she rounds the corner, arms laden with a tupperware container and a basket. "Dad said that you guys have been working a tough case, so I thought you could probably use some lunch. Is there someplace I can put this?"

"Uh, sure, follow me," she says, noticing that the boys have perked up at the mention of food.

Setting up in the break room, Alexis pulls back the towel covering the basket and opens the container. In just a few minutes, the three detectives are looking at lasagna, salad, and fresh bread. It's absolutely ridiculous, Beckett thinks, how much this cheers her up. And if the look on Esposito's face is any indication, she's not alone.

Running the risk of letting the boys go first, Beckett stands off to the side with Castle's daughter. "Alexis, this is fantastic. You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"It was no trouble," Alexis replies with a shake of her head.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but shouldn't you be in school?" Beckett asks and trying to stay focused on Alexis despite the enticing aroma of the meal that's starting to catch the attention of others in the bullpen.

"Nothing to worry about, Kate," Alexis reassures her. "Dad's 'one-strike' policy is still in effect."

"That sounds pretty harsh, especially for Castle," Beckett starts, but stops when Alexis laughs.

"Hold that thought, Detective," Alexis says. "Dad and I made an agreement when I started 9th grade: he trusts me until I give him a reason not to. If anyone from school calls and asks him if he signed anything, he says yes." Noticing Beckett's wide eyes, she chuckles. "Does it still sound harsh? Are you wishing you had the same deal?" she asks with a sly look.

Blushing slightly, Beckett speaks in a voice low enough to escape the notice of her coworkers. "Let's just say that I don't think I would have made it past midterms of first semester before I had my strike."

Alexis shares a conspiratorial laugh. "I'm a senior and graduation is in a week. We're just watching movies and reading while we run out the days, anyway. So, I've got plenty of time for projects. I might not be as good as Dad in the kitchen, but it should taste okay."

"No work at all?" Beckett asks with a quirked brow. "I shudder to think what kind of trouble your father would get into in that situation."

Grinning in reply, Alexis fesses up. "Well, I have one bit of work that's giving me some trouble – my speech. But…," she pauses.

"Yeah?" Beckett prompts.

"I was thinking about our conversation on the drive to the beach house. It's given me an idea to play around with," Alexis says. "Anyway, I've still got a week. Will you come?" she asks shyly.

"Absolutely," Beckett says with a smile.

"Are you all okay?" Alexis asks, looking at Beckett and then around to the boys who are happily munching away.

"We're fine, Alexis, we just need a break in the case and a little sleep," Beckett says, "But thanks for looking out for us."

"It's what we do, Kate."

* * *

.

A/N: I took a little heat for the jump between Chapters 18 and 19. The first several lines of this story are as close as I'll come to filling in those kinds of gaps, though. Check out my profile – I've got three kids and they know my username. So T is my limit. Can you imagine how mortifying it would be to be in middle school and find out that your dad writes stuff like that? I'm not Castle, I can't afford the therapy bills. Besides, I'd have to relabel this story as Humor for what I'm sure would be an (unintentionally) hilarious M encounter.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below

.

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Monday ~2:00 PM**

Buried in the paperwork closing last week's heartbreaking case, Beckett doesn't hear the first few attempts to get her attention.

"Beckett!" Esposito whisper-shouts, finally drawing her mind out of the booking forms as she looks up. With wide eyes and an exaggerated nod, Esposito redirects her attention to the doorway to Gates' office. Beckett looks just in time to see Agent Britton and AD Sampson enter Gates' office.

"What's going on?" Ryan asks the question they're all thinking.

"Maybe more joint task force logistics?" Beckett answers, thinking of the morass of paperwork and approvals that have slowed the JTF initiative to a crawl.

"I don't think so," Esposito speculates. "They looked upset."

Seeing Gates rise and move to her door with her FBI guests, the detectives don't try to hide their interest. They are all looking at Gates when she walks towards the bullpen and asks Beckett to collect her team and move into the conference room.

Beckett's anxiety level is starting to rise. She spoke with Castle just last night, and he seemed fine – exhausted, demoralized, and still a bit shell-shocked from the horrors of his case – but healthy and safe. And, by the end of their conversation, she'd actually been able to reverse roles and pull some meager laughs out of him.

Seating themselves around the table, Beckett immediately notices the power arrangement of the seating choices. Gates is at the head of the table, with Sampson to her right and Britton to her left. Subconsciously, perhaps, Beckett replied in kind by taking the foot of the table and placing Esposito to her right and Ryan to her left.

As everyone settles into place, Beckett notices Britton studying her. As was the case in her previous visits, there is no overt challenge in her gaze, but it's clearly an assessing stare.

"AD Sampson said he has some news," Gates introduces, then turns to the head of the FBI's NY office.

"Jordan's team apprehended their suspect this morning," the AD begins in his deep, resonant voice. "There was a difficulty in taking him in. The suspect, Todd Garrett, was captured on his way back to the building out of which he had been operating. The building was rigged with explosives and officers entering to search the premises triggered a detonation."

No, Beckett thinks, no, no, no! Castle has to be safe – they've come too far, fought and clawed too hard for what they have, for something to have happened now. She turns to Sampson and asks the question that matters most to her, despite whatever it signals to Gates or Britton. "Is Castle okay?"

"Mr. Castle should be in the hospital by now," Sampson replies in a somber tone. "His injuries are expected to be minor, and we'll know more as soon as they finish removing a bit of shrapnel from his back. He also likely sustained a concussion and was bleeding from his ear, but the onsite evaluation was that he is expected to make a full recovery."

"What happened?" Ryan asks.

"The suspect – Garrett – had been operating far longer than we expected. His recent activities were the second wave of his spree, his endgame," Sampson explains. "The victims of his first wave were … stored in his facility where he used their decomposition gases to contribute to the explosive trap that he set. His plan, apparently, was to be in his 'workshop' when we breached, so that the explosion would take out as many of us as possible. It was pure luck that we apprehended him on his way into the building."

"So you got the bastard?" Esposito follows up with a vindictive tone.

"We have his body. He was one of four casualties from the scene," Sampson says. In response to the attentive looks around the table, he continues. "The part of the team that included Mr. Castle had been pursuing a different lead and had just arrived when Garrett was in cuffs and being escorted to a sheriff's cruiser. Nothing in his MO to that point suggested a bomb threat – he'd done his work with knives and purposefully hidden his attraction to explosives. But, something apparently piqued Mr. Castle's attention as the breach team approached the door. He shouted for them to stop at the same time he kicked the back of Agent Avery's knees and tackled Agent Shaw."

"Are they okay?" Beckett asks, feeling a twinge of guilt that she had ignored others she knows while focusing on Castle.

"Mr. Castle might have protected Jordan from the shockwave and shrapnel of the blast, but he's also quite a bit larger than her. She twisted her arm when they landed and suffered a facial abrasion, but she's fine, and grateful. Agent Avery is also fine, though he made some comment about how his legs aren't cut out for many more cases with Mr. Castle. That didn't make much sense to me, but perhaps it will to you," Sampson ends with a change in intonation, suggesting a question, but no one chooses to bring him in on the joke.

"Who perished?" Captain Gates cuts in for the first time.

"The breach team did not survive the blast – two sheriff's deputies and Agent Chris Davenport of our Los Angeles office," Sampson says sadly, while both he and Britton hang their heads. The FBI has a remarkable record for keeping agents alive, but the news that one more memorial star will adorn the walls at FBI headquarters is cause for heartache. "The suspect was impaled by a piece of rebar propelled by the explosion, pinned to the car to which he was being escorted. Waste of a perfectly good piece of metal," Sampson concludes with some venom, finally showing some emotion.

"What does this mean for our task force plans?" Gates asks, mentioning something that Beckett was also wondering. There must be a deeper agenda in play – the head of the FBI's NY office wouldn't come to the 12th to relay news when a phone call would've sufficed.

"Our plans should be unaffected, so long as we can maintain information security on the details of the assignment," Sampson answers obliquely. "Information about the explosion has been contained thus far, but that will not last – there were just too many different groups involved: Bureau, LA County Sheriff, local coroners and law enforcement from Upland, the fire department… too many. Plus, there's the gruesome nature of the explosion." After a short pause and prompted by curious looks, Sampson explains. "Garrett didn't just use the bodies for the explosion, but also for effect – the … pieces … of his victims comprised a fair portion of the explosive debris. If we're lucky, everything removed from those injured at the scene will prove to be non-biologic."

Ryan looks a little green and Esposito looks resolute, both of them probably thinking back to Beckett's comments about the ME reactions to the crime scenes. As Beckett imagines the ghastly scene, she understands the nature of Sampson's concerns.

"Oh lord," she says. "Body parts raining from the sky, a case near Hollywood, and one on which the 'Master of the Macabre' is consulting? The media will love this," she says in a dire tone.

"Indeed. Which is why I think we'd all prefer," Sampson says directly, "that any discussion of the case, even including confirmation of the personnel involved, receive only a 'no comment' in response."

Gates is nodding while Sampson is speaking, and orally confirms her agreement as soon as he's done. With that, members of their group begin to stand and shift toward the door. Beckett notices that Britton is again studying her, but the look is broken as everyone files towards the door. Thanking them for the update and assuring their agreement with the way forward, Gates leads the farewells as the members of the 12th escort their guests to the elevator. While this meeting was intended to convey and contain information, it's failed at least in one respect as other members of the 12th are keenly interested in the visitors and whatever news has left Beckett's team looking so gloomy.

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Monday ~5:00 PM**

"Hey partner," Beckett says as she answers her phone a few hours later. With no active case and having been barred from the shocking one that was reported earlier today, the approach of the end of a conventional workday has Beckett looking forward to a little exercise, a long bath, and some careful planning. "How you feeling?"

"A bit like a pincushion, actually," Castle replies. "But I think I'm done with the poking and prodding."

"Only until you get home," Beckett says with a sultry voice, figuring that it might help cheer Castle. From the sound of his warm, rich chuckle it seems to have worked.

"It's not too bad. A couple stiches, some difficulty hearing with my left ear for the next week or so, and I got my bell rung," Castle summarizes. "Plus, I lost the money that I put in the pool for you giving me the concussion."

"The other pools still seem to be in operation," Beckett says, letting Castle know that the boys have surprisingly remained true to their promise to keep any news gathered in the Hamptons under wraps.

"Good," Castle replies, "I want to be back in peak shape for my strut when that news breaks."

Huffing at the ridiculous image he's planted in her mind, Beckett's still anxious to see him. "So, when are you coming home?"

"Look, Kate," Castle says faux seriously, "I know this looks bad and I promised to use my powers only for good, but I'm flirting like a madman with anyone and everyone – male or female, animate or not – to get sprung from this place. There's a red-eye flight tonight and I want to be on it."

"Your powers, huh?" Beckett teases, letting him off the hook.

"Absolutely. And if I catch that flight, I'm back in time for the workday tomorrow," Castle says happily.

"Castle, you remember that I'm a detective, right?" Beckett asks rhetorically. "It's okay to mention your ex-wife, especially if she's part of the reason you're so anxious to get out of Southern California."

"Busted again," Castle laments. "That knock on the head must have affected my game, thrown off my natural stealthiness," he says and provokes an indulgent smile. "Fine. I'd like to be gone before Meredith finds out I'm nearby. It's only a matter of time before she finds out that there's someone serious in my life and pops up to wreak a little havoc."

"That sounds like something to look forward to," Beckett says sarcastically to Castle's accompanying chuckle.

"No, but there's only so much you can do to plan for an hurricane. Just set a strong foundation and be ready to rebuild," Castle says warmly, and Beckett again appreciates the economy of his words and the imagery they create.

"There's something we need to talk about when you're back," Beckett says, switching gears.

"That doesn't sound good. If it was a letter, it wouldn't start with 'Dear John,' would it?" Castle replies.

He'd better be joking, she thinks. "'Enduring,' Castle. Have some confidence," Beckett cajoles. "No, this is a B&amp;E case."

"Beckett, my life is fantastic right now, but I'm not sure that I'm up for working with Demming just yet," Castle says.

"Just listen, _Rick_," she replies, using his given name to drive home their connection. "We've been warned off of this case, but someone broke into Evelyn Montgomery's house this weekend. Things have been rifled through, but it's not clear whether anything was taken. We should talk about a care basket or something," she says, hoping that Castle's knock on the head doesn't lead him to say something he shouldn't in case of being overheard.

"That poor woman," Castle says, "seems like she's had enough tragedy. We'll figure out something nice to do for her," he replies. Message received, Beckett thinks.

"You know who else needs some TLC?" Castle continues, reclaiming her attention. "This guy," Castle says in a rowdy voice, and Beckett can envision him using his thumbs to point to himself. "You busy tomorrow night, Kate?"

"You need to spend some time with your family, Castle," she chides in response while she feels virtuous for putting the needs of Alexis and Martha ahead of her own.

"That's exactly what I was suggesting," he says shyly. "Just the four of us together again. Well, maybe three – you never know with Mother."

"Castle…," Beckett drawls out, torn between seeing him again and intruding on his time with Alexis.

"Hey, you wanted me to have some confidence," Castle replies. "If you're worried about Alexis, you shouldn't be. She wants to see me happy, you make me happy, so we're good," Castle concludes as if he's a professor who's just completed a mathematical proof.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Beckett finds herself wondering if she's going to get a permanent indentation there. "Okay, smart guy," she says in a lilting tone. "Let me call Alexis, _without_ any coaching from her dad, and as long as we're okay, I'll be there."

"Deal," Castle says happily as Beckett feels a smile stretch her cheeks. "I'll take it and entertain any side bets about Alexis' reaction."

"Quit while you're ahead, buddy," she chuckles. "I've got to run, but Rick?" she pauses to make sure that he's listening. "I'm glad you're safe and I'm glad you're coming back to me."

"I love you, too, Beckett," he says sincerely. "See you soon."

"You two are disgusting," Esposito calls from his desk. She prefers his comment, though, to Ryan's "I think they're cute."

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Wednesday ~10:00 AM**

"Hey Castle, good to see you again," Ryan calls out to Castle as he approaches with a carrying tray of coffees and a bag of pastries.

"Still on West Coast time?" Esposito teases while exaggeratedly looking at his watch.

"'A wizard is never late nor is he early…,'" Castle begins, quoting from one of his personal favorites before Beckett interjects.

"A wizard? How hard did you get hit on the head?" Beckett asks and Castle harrumphs as he distributes the coffees.

"I _would_ have been in yesterday …," Castle starts, but Beckett cuts him off.

"Except that you were too tired to stand up straight, you were on painkillers, and were still recovering from having nearly been blown up," she says drily, remembering his meager attempt to dissuade her from driving him home rather than to the precinct yesterday morning.

"Yeah, that," Castle agrees, slightly contrite.

With coffees and pastries distributed, Castle settles into his chair beside Beckett's desk.

"Did you tell them about Jordan?" Castle asks her quietly.

"Not yet. I thought we'd wait to do it outside of the precinct," Beckett replies. One positive from the "Bodybomber" case in California was that it afforded Castle the opportunity to reach out to Jordan in vague terms, to test the water about whether she might be an ally on their project. Nothing like shielding someone from a bomb to build a little goodwill.

While Beckett thinks about the possibilities, Castle bends down and from his bag withdraws a new laptop computer, a beefy looking contraption that wouldn't look out of place on a construction site or oil rig.

"New toy?" Beckett asks.

"Yes?" Castle replies.

"I asked if that was a new toy," Beckett repeats a little louder, thinking that Castle's left ear was giving him problems.

"I heard you, Beckett, I thought you were just trying out a pet name," Castle says as he sends her a wicked smile.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Beckett can't deny that she missed his ridiculousness.

"But yes, this is _also_ a new toy. It's what I mentioned last night, for our project – satellite enabled, anonymous, and portable. We can search for anything we want without worrying about the electronic fingerprints pointing back to the precinct," Castle says softly. "Like you said after dinner, there's a good chance that whoever broke into Evelyn's house was looking for photo albums or something else that might lead to the file. We need to be careful now – if they were looking for the photos and noticed that they were gone, they might think that we're looking into the case again."

Beckett's nodding, and keeping her voice low, says "I think we need to assume that he knows. We need to find Smith. Are you going to look into the three of our candidates who were on the seating chart?"

"Exactly. I'll get moving on this, just don't distract me," Castle replies.

"Right. Because I'm the one in this partnership who causes distraction," she says flatly.

"Kate," Castle says, leaning slightly closer. "Your mere existence is a distraction. Just knowing we live in a reality where the wisps of cosmic dust and gossamer threads of anima could coalesce to create someone so extraordinary – how can that not be a distraction?"

"Castle, stop it," she chides, lowering her hair to hide her blush. "I'm not as good at pretending your words don't affect me as I used to be."

"Sorry," he says, a little embarrassed. "I'll stop."

"Wait, don't stop," Beckett interjects quickly, looking up with a smile. "Just not here."

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Thursday ~5:30 PM**

"Magnificent as usual, Detective," Castle complements her as she exits the interrogation room with confession secured, leaving her shattered suspect to the attentions of the officers there to escort him to holding.

"Thanks, Castle," she says in reply, still feeling good and a bit charged up from the encounter. "You know the best part?" she asks rhetorically, but Castle tries to answer anyway.

"It's a toss-up between when he flinched when you lead in with Amy's contradictions or how he gulped after your threat about what might happen to him without the 'protective auspices of the penitentiary system,'" Castle chortles.

"Okay, so maybe hanging out with an author is making me a little loquacious," Beckett admits, mostly so that she can see his reaction to her word choice, and she's not disappointed.

"Nope, _that_ right _there_ was the best part," Castle amends.

"No, Mr. Diction, the best part is that with this case closed, the chances for anything interfering with Alexis' graduation tomorrow are greatly reduced," Beckett corrects. "I'm looking forward to hearing her speech."

"Yeah, I'm anxious to hear what that little ingrate has to say," he huffs. "Eighteen years of room and board and I don't get a preview of the speech! Unbelievable," he grouses, his frown growing even more exaggerated when Beckett laughs rather than sides with him.

"So," Beckett says while shifting gears and sitting down at her desk. "How goes the project?"

"Looks like a road trip on Saturday," Castle answers. "I'm pretty sure one of the three is a non-starter, but the other two look equally likely. And I've looked into some of the others, just in case. I think it's time to show up for some face time."

"It feels like an irrevocable step," Beckett notes, "but I think you're right. Your ladies will be out of town and we'll be careful. With what happened to Evelyn, we need to step up the pace."

Nodding, Castle agrees. "I've made some transportation arrangements for Saturday. We can talk about it out of the precinct, but I think you'll be impressed."

"So now the secret comes out," Beckett says overdramatically. "Your interest in this case," she pauses and looks around, dropping her voice, "your interest in me, it's all a pretext to serve your lifelong goal of playing spy. I should have seen this coming ever since they offered the Bond series to you all those years ago…"

"I doubt that Q would let James Bond use Rent-a-Wreck," Castle replies. "But the rest? All true."

"There _is_ a mission I've been thinking about," Beckett suggests, dropping her tone even further and making it a little breathy.

"Really?" Castle asks, intrigued. "I'm your agent, Detective."

"Well, I was wondering if your skills would be sufficient to secure us a spot for a surreptitious supper where we might escape surveillance," Beckett whispers.

"So. Hot." Castle gulps. "I'll take care of it," he has while extracting his phone. "Get your paperwork done, then let's get out of here."

* * *

**Marlowe Academy, Friday ~2:30 PM**

Beckett's thankful to see an open parking spot into which she quickly swerves, since it relieves her of the moral dilemma of whether she should abuse her position by parking her cruiser in a blatantly illegal spot in order to make sure they're in the auditorium by 3:00. They've still got a bit of a walk, but they'll make it with time to spare despite the extra time required to address Captain Gates' questions about their latest case that delayed her departure. Still, resolving those issues freed the boys, too, so they can all be there for Alexis' big moment.

It's a beautiful day for a short walk on a pristine campus. It's easy to forget that these little alcoves of intellectual and architectural wonders are tucked around New York City, she thinks, squeezed into the nooks and crannies of the metropolitan bustle. As they approach the auditorium, Beckett takes in the neighborhood, surprised by how close the rest of the city encroaches on Marlowe's campus.

She's about to lower her eyes from scanning the horizon when she notices a flash of movement in her peripheral vision. After taking a few more steps, she swerves to the side, walking in shadow in the lee of whatever academic building they walk beside. Crouching to pretend to adjust her shoe, she waits until the boys notice her and step to her side.

"There's someone on the roof of the building across the street," she says quietly. Esposito feigns a stretch, during which he casts a quick eye at the nearby rooftops.

"I didn't see anyone, but that position would give a clear field of fire at the auditorium doors," he says quietly while looking down at Beckett. "Should we check it out?"

Beckett's torn, thinking about the best way forward. She might be paranoid, but recent events make it feel like Bracken is moving pieces into play. She's also desperate to be inside to hear Alexis. Goodness knows she doesn't want to disappoint the girl when she said she'd be there, doesn't want to become another on the list of women who can't be relied on. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she realizes that she doesn't have time to scout the rooftop and make it for the beginning of the graduation ceremony.

Sighing, she realizes that she needs to minimize the maximum, as her dad would say – better to ensure their safety and apologize later than to attend the ceremony on time and learn to her horror that her fears were well founded. But she has to let Castle know, she thinks, planning her course of action.

"Let's walk around the corner," she says, wary of staying within sight of the rooftop in question for too long. Praying that she is making the right call, she dials her phone as she walks, the call connecting as they round the corner of the building.

"Captain Gates," a voice answers, and Beckett commits to her plan. "Captain, this is Detective Beckett. Please find a different phone and call me back immediately. This is an emergency," then hangs up. If Gates' phone is tapped she's clearly sent up a flare, but it can't be avoided on this timetable. Esposito and Ryan are looking at her is silent disbelief, but she doesn't explain or justify: if this goes south, it's on her shoulders alone.

While awaiting a return call, she types a quick, clumsy text to Castle: **Have fun and don't drink too much at the reception, just little sips!** As a code word, 'sip' is a pretty obvious acronym, but she and Castle hadn't thought of a better one for 'shelter in place.' Knowing that she's probably caused her writer's heartrate to double, she trusts that he'll keep his family, and others in attendance, safe inside the auditorium.

Her attention is pulled back to her phone as it rings, and she picks it up to abandon the last chance to change course. "Beckett," she answers as she connects to the unknown number.

"Detective, what's going on?" Gates asks quickly.

"Sir, I'm at Marlowe Academy with Ryan and Esposito. I think I spotted a shooter on a rooftop overlooking the auditorium doors. Can you gather a backup team without using police communications and get them down here? We don't have much time," Beckett says, letting a little of the urgency of the situation inflect her tone.

"A different phone and a request to stay off police communication channels," Gates responds. "Why do you suspect a sniper at a high school graduation, and why do you think we've been compromised?"

"Please, sir, there isn't much time. My concerns are well-founded," she pauses before she reveals even more. "We're working on the same case now that we were pursuing when I was shot."

Her admission causes a pause during which Beckett wonders what's happening. "Backup is on the way," Gates answers. "And I'll look forward to an explanation, Detective."

Swallowing hard as she disconnects, Beckett turns her attention to the boys. "Ryan, I want you to go inside the auditorium. Talk to whoever is in charge, quietly, but make sure no one leaves that building until we give them the all clear. When you're done, get back out to meet Gates and the backup."

"Got it," Ryan replies. "Maybe Castle can do a dramatic reading or something to keep them contained," he says to break the tension. "Be careful," he says as he splits off and heads to the auditorium, walking casually despite the knowledge that there might be a gun trained on him.

"Let's move," Beckett says to Esposito as they continue to walk to the other side of the building so that they can approach their target from a different direction. "I was thinking that we should be in position to confirm the threat and be ready to move if the backup team spooks him," Beckett says. "Thoughts?"

"We stay together," Esposito replies, already deviating from what Beckett had planned. "Even a decent sniper should already be in position and out of sight. If there's someone up there, you probably saw the spotter. That means at least two unfriendlies."

"Okay," Beckett relents, knowing that this is Esposito's area of expertise. "Where do you think they are?"

"They _should_ be in a room, set up to shoot through a window. But if this came together late, they might not have had time to secure a location inside, which would leave the roof. But the spotter will be with the shooter – there to watch his back. So, let's work our way up top," Esposito recommends.

"Fire escape or internal stairs?" Beckett asks, though they're working towards the door of the building rather than the alley.

Esposito confirms her assumption. "Inside. It'd be too easy to see or hear us coming on the fire escape," he confirms.

Once inside, they learn that the building is a mixed-use structure, mostly populated by small businesses. It's a good thing that the graduation is during business hours, Beckett realizes. Otherwise, it would have been simple to break into one of these units after-hours and pursued the route Esposito suggested.

They opt to take the elevator to the sixth floor, which has several offices they could plausibly be visiting. From there, it's four floors up the internal stairs. They move slowly but quietly, taking time to ensure that their footfalls don't echo up the concrete and steel chamber.

Reaching the top floor, it takes a few moments to locate the door that provides access to the roof, which is separated from the internal stairs. Noticing that it's unlocked, they draw their weapons and enter, seeing a single flight of stairs leading to the roof door, which has been propped open slightly.

Esposito raises a closed fist, and they stop their progress near the top of the stairs. Beckett, a step lower than Esposito, withdraws her phone and texts **Status?** to Ryan after muting her phone. Seeing the icon indicating that Ryan's typing his response, she waits only a few seconds before she reads **Downstairs, alone.**

After showing the screen to Esposito, she replies with **Advise when friends arrive** and places her phone on in the pocket of her blazer. With a look and nod to Esposito, they both slowly advance until they are perched on the last step in front of the door, ready to move with an instant's notice.

As they crouch, they hear movement on the other side of the door and lean forward in an effort to hear what's happening on the rooftop.

"We're blown," says a man's high, raspy voice. "Time to pull out."

"Get the van ready," a lower voice answers. "I'll be right down."

If they're splitting up, there's no use in trying to catch them inside. Nodding to each other, she and Esposito prepare to move. They've no sooner gotten set when the door opens, pulled outward from someone on the rooftop. Esposito's already moving, so that he barrels through the door and knocks down the man who had been preparing to leave.

"Freeze! Police!" Beckett yells as she steps around Esposito, who's standing over a prone figure at whom his weapon is trained. Her eyes are trained instead on a second man about 15 yards away who is kneeling in front of a black weapon case. The case is open so that the lid blocks her view of what's inside, but she's certain that they'll find a sniper rifle nestled in protective foam within.

There is a frozen moment when everything seems to stop: voices, movements, the clouds in the sky, even heartbeats. Then all hell breaks loose when events lurch forward as time accelerates to catch up to where it should have been.

Beckett hears movement and a crash to her right, where Esposito stood over the other suspect. In her peripheral vision, she sees that he's no longer standing, but that's all she notices before her suspect commands her full attention. In her moment of distraction, he's reached into the case and flashed his hand. Towards her, moving and bouncing as if in slow-motion, is a small, spherical device painted in lethal matte black.

As she reacts instinctively, Beckett knows that she's made a deadly mistake. It's a grenade bouncing toward her, a device that would kill them all. A device that still has its pin intact. Which means that it was only a distraction, a feint to force her to refocus her attention and move.

Turning her head back to where the sniper had been, Beckett expects to see him breaking for the door or the fire escape. Instead, she sees him moving towards her. With only a moment to react, she prepares herself for the impact, absorbing as much of his tackle as she can while spinning on contact. She might not have dodged his charge, but her reaction means that they careen sideways, both landing on their sides and sliding on the rough surface of the roof.

Congratulating herself on holding onto her weapon, Beckett curses fate as it's suddenly kicked from her hand and goes skittering away out of reach.

"Detective Beckett, how good to see you again," her attacker grins as they square off against each other, moving in a slow circle. Beckett's playing for time, hoping for the arrival of backup and trying to slowly rotate so that she can see what's happened to Esposito. To her dismay, she sees him laid out on the ground near the door, his suspect nowhere in sight.

"You've aged since I saw you last," her opponent taunts. "Of course, I was pretty far away last time and those dress blues made you look like a rookie. It's too bad your writer isn't here this time – I still owe him for fouling my shot. Still, he'll get his turn."

She knows that he's trying to distract and enrage her, but why? Drawing this out plays to her advantage, not his. That's when she notices his attempt at misdirection, that his right hand was gesticulating with his taunts while his left crept toward a knife hilt at his side.

Knowing that her odds of stalling or even surviving are drastically reduced if he pulls the weapon, Beckett launches into attack. At first, her opponent underestimates her, thinking that her assault is one of rage at his taunts. Instead, she is controlled and focused. For precious seconds, Beckett thinks that she's likely to succeed.

But as quickly as her advantage seemed within reach, it disappeared. Realizing the ferocity and focus of her attack, her opponent reacts instinctively and effectively. Her blows are countered, while she absorbs three painful hits, including one that nearly drives the breath from her lungs. Thinking she's winded, her opponent moves in for another strike when she lashes out with a brutal hit that lands on his cheek and leaves a cut just below his eye, causing blood to well immediately.

The effect on their fight is immediate and surprising. Dabbing his fingers to his cheek and pulling them back to see the blood, he looks at her with new eyes and gives her a nod of respect. Then a feral grin crawls across his face as he rolls his shoulders and settles into a new stance. Without the faintest idea of why this thought comes to her and with no control to stop it, Beckett flashes back to watching the 'Princess Bride' with Castle and Alexis, when Inigo Montoya looks to be faring poorly in a duel until he reveals that he's not left handed.

It's an apt analogy, as her opponent comes at her with redoubled force, hands a blur of strength and pain. While she fights to fend him off, two hits land for every one she blocks, and even the blocked strikes hurt. He's toying with her now, she realizes in dismay, as he hasn't even attempted to use his feet, either to kick or knock her off balance.

Where's the backup that was supposed to be here? Was she a fool to trust Gates? Her arms are nearly useless, beaten and numb, and her torso and sides are awash in flaring agony. She can already feel her cheek swelling. Though he's made it clear that he could do so at will, her attacker has only struck her face once. She doesn't know if this is supposed to be some nod to her one shot to his cheek, or if he's been instructed to allow for an open casket funeral service.

The morbidity of this thought galvanizes her. She'll be damned if this is how it ends, her quest for justice, the beautiful future she can finally, finally taste with Castle. She's going to live, damn it, and she knows how she'll do it.

As the pace of her attacker's blows begins to slow, Beckett rotates again, changing her position and orientation on the roof before moving into a spin-kick intended to distract. When her opponent steps away from the roundhouse kick she transitions into a straight-leg kick aimed at his midsection. It lands, though Beckett thinks she fared worse in the exchange – it felt like kicking the trunk of a redwood tree.

Her opponent's grin is back, and she knows what's coming. He takes the use of her feet as an invitation to do the same. His left foot lashes out, but he retracts in mid-kick and pivots to the other foot. Even suspecting that it's coming, Beckett is unprepared for the force as his right foot connects high on her stomach, throwing her backwards and driving the air from her lungs. Trying hard to retain her wits, Beckett lands hard on the roof in an uncontrolled tumble.

Fighting to remain conscious, she hears a gloating chuckle and realizes that her opponent's decision to toy with her has left him blind. Still rolling from his kick, Beckett comes up in a clumsy, off-balance crouch and with her service weapon back in hand. The gloating smile is still sliding from his face when the first bullet lances through the joint where his left leg meets his torso. Two more bullets stich upward, one high in the gut and the last in his upper chest, just inches to the right of where he shot her a year ago.

"I'm not left-handed either, asshole," Beckett mumbles defiantly as she slumps to the ground and darkness claims her.

* * *

.

A/N: If you've read this far, you know that I'm a fan of Castle (the character as well as the show). But that doesn't mean that I'm not also a big fan of Beckett, too. It's great fun writing bad-ass Beckett.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below

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_"I'm not left-handed either, asshole," Beckett mumbles defiantly as she slumps to the ground and darkness claims her._

* * *

**Marlowe Academy, Friday ~4:00 PM**

It's the jostle of the gurney as it exits the elevator that shakes Beckett awake. Feeling the constraints that secure her, she immediately struggles for freedom.

"Easy, Beckett," Ryan says from her side with a hand on her shoulder. "We've got it under control."

"I. Want. Out." She intonates clearly. "Now."

"No, Detective, you're going into the ambulance at least, and then to the hospital if that's what they recommend," Captain Gates says from her other side. Angry but too desperate for other information, she relents for now.

"Espo – Castle – is everyone okay?" she asks, desperate for updates.

"Javi will be fine," Ryan tells her. "He'll be eating crow for a while, though – you took out your merc while his knocked him out and slipped away. Until he got to the lobby, anyway," he says with a laugh.

"What about Castle and Alexis?" she asks as they wheel her toward the exit.

"Fine and outside, anxious to see you," he says while giving her shoulder a squeeze and cutting his eyes towards Captain Gates to remind her to be careful about the nature of her comments about Castle.

"Espo's guy – get his phone. He knew backup was coming. Someone talked," Beckett says to Ryan. She thought she said it discreetly, but she sees Gates stiffen.

Gates breaks off to see about the personal effects of their suspect. "They had a van, too," she tells Ryan as she nods for Ryan to follow Gates. As they emerge from the building and approach an ambulance, another vehicle pulls away with lights flashing, heading to the hospital with Esposito inside. Before she can track it, her vision is blocked by a graduation gown and a mass of red hair.

"Oh, Kate," Alexis says as she bends over the gurney to give Beckett a hug. "I was so worried."

"Miss, please," says the EMT pushing the gurney, turning her attention to Alexis. Beckett hears a click from the other side and looks to see that Castle has used the EMT's distraction to release the belt binding her torso. Freed, she sits upright and wraps Alexis in a hug despite how much it hurts, while Castle moves to engage the EMT and buy them some time.

"I'm so sorry I missed your graduation ceremony Alexis," Beckett apologizes to the young woman. "I wanted to hear your speech. Did it go well?"

"Hush, Kate, don't apologize. I'm so glad you're okay," Alexis says through her tears. "Thank you for keeping us safe."

"It's what we do," Beckett says with a teary smile, repeating Alexis' words from last week.

Before more can be said, the EMT prevails in her efforts to get Beckett reclining, but she relents and leaves the belt unsecured, a clear breach of protocol and probably insurance requirements for which Beckett is glad.

As her gurney is lifted into the ambulance, the EMT explains. "We need to do a quick exam here, Detective. You heard your Captain – anything looks amiss and we're to take you in."

Beckett nods reluctantly, but says "Stop" imperiously when the EMT moves to close the ambulance doors. "I want Castle here," she explains.

She hasn't finished speaking, and the EMT has barely started shaking her head, when Castle clambers into the small space. "I'll behave. Alexis," he calls to his daughter who's standing outside the vehicle, "Will you keep watch for a few minutes?"

With a conspiratorial grin, Alexis herself closes the vehicle doors and the EMT shifts into position.

"Just one minute," Beckett says to the EMT, sitting up on the gurney and reaching for Castle. His embrace is so achingly gentle and loving that she can't fight a powerful exhalation and a few tears.

"You …," Castle starts, but pauses to control his own emotions. "… are such a bad-ass," he says with a shallow chuckle. "Thank you for fighting so hard to stay with us."

"Always," she sighs in return while nestled in his embrace. "I was so scared, Castle. But I fought. For you and mom. I fought."

"It's one of the many reasons you're extraordinary, and why I love you," he whispers in her ear. "Now, you need to let the EMT check you out," he says as he pulls back and sees the grateful look of the EMT who was trying to figure out how to break in and separate her patient.

Castle sits to the side and holds Beckett's hand, but he can't hold his gasps as her examination reveals bruises and scrapes that already look nasty and will certainly blossom into a dark rainbow of pain. "Oh, Kate," he exhales as the removal of her shirt displays the full glory of her injuries.

Before she can reply, there's a sharp knock in a 2-1-1 pattern. "That's Alexis," Castle says. "Let me step out and see what's going on. Don't go anywhere," he teases as he moves to the back of the rig and out the door.

"I'm afraid I need to take you in, Detective," the EMT says after the door closes. "You've sustained significant trauma around your ribs, so I'd like a scan. I'm also concerned about a potential light concussion and would like you checked out."

"Do I need to go in an ambulance?" Beckett asks, looking to avoid some of the sideshow of a hospital trip in a bus.

"Will you go in otherwise?" the EMT asks with a sassy tone and raised eyebrow. "Or just tell me that you will and then forget?"

Beckett's spared the need to answer when there is another knock on the van's door. After waiting until Beckett is covered again, the EMT opened the door to reveal Captain Gates and Ryan just outside, with Castle and Alexis, with Martha, a few yards behind.

"She needs to go in," the EMT says before anyone else can say anything. Captain Gates nods and says "Get moving. I'd like Detective Ryan to accompany you as a protective measure. Your partner can meet you at the hospital after he takes care of his daughter. I'll send someone along to take statements."

As much as Beckett dislikes this plan, it's probably the best way forward (thinking about Alexis) and it would be difficult to oppose Gates without getting into a discussion that strays into personal topics that aren't ready for general acknowledgement yet. Ryan's apparently reached a similar conclusion, as he's signaled to Castle to join them at the ambulance door. As Ryan climbs in, Castle casts Beckett a forlorn look, but it's clear that he understands the need to play along.

"I'll catch up with you in the hospital as soon as I see the redheads off safely," Castle says, trying to sound upbeat. "I'll bring some things to keep you entertained, maybe even smuggle in some coffee," he says while the EMT raises a brow. "Do you want me to call your dad?"

"Would you, please?" Beckett says quietly, thankful that Castle thought of this and is willing to reach out to her father.

"Of course," Castle replies lightly, conveying with his eyes rather than words that calling her father is among the least of what he'd for her. "Is there anything that you want to make sure he knows or anything that I shouldn't mention?" he asks with an inquisitive look.

"You can tell him everything," Beckett says in reply, blushing slightly. Ryan coughs gently to remind them that he's there, that the subtext of this conversation isn't being missed by everyone present.

As Beckett ducks her head, Castle turns to Ryan and says "Thanks, Kevin. Please keep safe, and I'll get to the hospital as quickly as possible."

With that, the EMT moves to close the doors so that they can depart. As she tells them which hospital they're heading towards, Castle and Beckett make eye contact. They're both frustrated by Gates' presence, so the farewell is marked only by eye contact and Castle's upturned hand. As they drive off, Beckett leans back and tries to avoid flinching with every bump and turn in the road.

* * *

**NYU Hospital, Friday ~6:45 PM**

There is only a brief moment between hearing the gentle knock and seeing Castle's head poking through the door to her hospital room. She's in a double room but the other bed is vacant, and the police presence at the doors suggests that this will be the last double to be filled by another patient.

Beckett's enjoyed her conversation with her father, but she's been anxious to see Castle. It turns out that Castle didn't tell her father everything, but her dad has clearly made some connections. She hasn't made an outright declaration or told her father exactly the situation, waiting for Castle to be present.

The fact that she lights up like a miniature sun when he appears probably gives the game away. If not, the look of adoration Castle sends her way before stepping forward and dropping a gentle kiss on her lips is pretty suggestive. Only after reconnecting with his partner does Castle straighten and extend a hand to Beckett's father, who stands to greet him.

"Rick," he says, looking at the hand that Castle's extended to him for a shake. He laughs and steps into Rick and gives him a quick hug instead. "It looks like we're past the hand-shake stage, _finally_."

Castle chuckles and gives him a slap on the back. Stepping back, Castle casts his vision around to find another chair to pull up to the bed.

"No, Rick, take my chair," Jim offers. "I need to leave – you guys don't have much time remaining during visiting hours, and I don't want to be a third wheel. I was just keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn't fly the coop."

"_Dad_," Beckett says crossly. "I'm capable of monitoring my own health."

"Rick, we've had this talk before," her father says to Castle. "Same terms?"

"Of course," Castle answers, and some of Beckett's annoyed glance is transferred to her partner. She's still giving him the look when her father bends to kiss her cheek. "Call me when things have settled down – we need to catch up," he says kindly. "I love you, Katie. I'm proud of the detective you are and happy that you and Rick have finally found each other. Please be careful," he says as he stands up, leaving Beckett to wonder if he was talking about her job or her relationship. Probably both.

Jim Beckett departs after a hybrid hand-shake/hug with Castle during which he says something that Beckett can't hear but prompts a chuckle from Castle. After seeing her father out, Castle turns and repeats his entry by walking up to Beckett, undeterred by her scowl, and giving her a kiss that's less family appropriate than his earlier effort.

"I don't like being coddled, Castle," she says in an annoyed tone, "or ganged up on."

"You can hardly be surprised that the men in your orbit share an interest in seeing you well," Castle says amiably. "And as far as the other thing, I promise: no coddling," he says as he pulls the chair right up next to her bed. "Indulging, though, that's something else entirely."

"And just who are we indulging?" Beckett replies, succeeding in keeping the grin from her face.

"Me, definitely," he says happily. "Maybe you, too, if we get lucky," he adds with the obligatory eyebrow waggle. Pulling his large gym bag out with a flourish, he says "Behold, my Bag of Indulgence. Filled with things to make you feel better and while away your time in the big house." Beckett's rolling her eyes until she sees the first sample of the bag's contents, her flannel pajama bottoms, sleep shirt, and robe. Bless him, she thinks. Just getting out of the institutional clothing will make her feel a hundred times better.

"I'm really trying to not annoy you, so I'll just ask: may I help?" Castle asks shyly as he extends a hand. While Beckett _could_ handle this on her own, she realizes that she doesn't need to. Letting him help her from the bed, she's happy that he retains his hold on her hand once she's standing. He doesn't pull her toward the bathroom or dote on her, he just occupies his usual place at her side, provoking a gentle smile. Beckett steps into the bathroom and leaves the door slightly ajar, more for their conversation than for any desire to tease or entice. She's just feeling too beaten and sore to be alluring right now.

"What's the word?" Castle asks, impressing Beckett with his patience.

"They want me to stay overnight for observation. Nothing's broken, but my ribs aren't my friends right now and probably not for another week. I told them I only got hit on the head once, but they're worried about that, too," she replies in a huff.

"But you're going to stay, right?" Castle leads. "None of this leaving against medical advice stuff?"

Stepping out of the bathroom in her comfy sleep attire, Beckett sizes him up and wonders about her options. "Says Mr. Pull-the-shrapnel-out-and-let-me-board-the-plane. How about this," she offers. "I'll stay tonight, but we follow through with our date tomorrow."

Castle looks like he's about to ask her what date she's talking about when he catches on. They had planned to go check in our their Smith candidates tomorrow, but they can't talk about it that way in the hospital – they haven't checked for surveillance, and it's not clear that checking would be effective when there are so many observation devices that are supposed to be there.

After giving her an assessing stare that makes her think they're playing poker, Castle says "Counter-offer: you stay tonight and we see if you're up for it in the morning." She's about to interject (after all, that's hardly a deal) when he continues. "And in addition, I stay until they kick me out, during which time I'm your willing servant, catering to your whims and offering you other wonders from the Bag of Indulgence."

She suspects that this deal is still no better – he'd do that anyway. But she's mildly annoyed to find that his look of affection is actually swaying her. She also appreciates that he didn't play the 'what would you do if the roles were reversed' card.

"Counter-counter-offer: you woo me with the Bag of Indulgence and hide out here as long as you can, and we plan to go for our date tomorrow," she offers. He looks ready to object, so she continues. "As long as I'm feeling up for it, we'll go. But if I'm hurting, we'll postpone, or we'll split it up over the weekend."

"Hmmmm. Seems like a deal that I won't be able to monitor," Castle says with a skeptical look, "since it depends on you telling me how you're feeling."

"Guess you'll just have to trust me," she replies sassily.

"Okay, that's easy. I do that all the time anyway," he relents sweetly. "My lady?" he says as he extends an arm to guide her back to her bed.

Once there, she turns to him and says "I wish you could climb in here with me. But, I guess that's a bad idea with the officers on the door," she says, referring to the guards that Gates had posted. With luck, they missed Castle's greeting kisses or accepted them as platonic gestures.

"Agreed," Castle says with a soft look. "But we'll get there. For now, is there a beverage I can offer? Coffee or hot chocolate?"

"I'd love coffee, but I probably shouldn't have caffeine," Beckett laments, but Castle smiles. "I've got leaded and unleaded," he says as he pulls out a thermos and goes about serving. "And we have several options for your viewing entertainment. I know we talked about watching John Woo movies tonight, and I have those, but I think the events of the afternoon might warrant something a little less physically confrontational in nature. So, I also brought Pride and Prejudice," he says with a smile.

"The Keira Knightley one or the BBC version?" Beckett asks, curious to explore the depths of Castle's collection and his knowledge of movies that might appeal more to the feminine viewership.

"Both," he says with an embarrassed shrug. "The US version has unbelievable cinematography, but the BBC version is better and more true to the book."

Beckett stares at him long enough for his blush to deepen slightly, but she doesn't tease him too much, as his offer really was quite sweet. But, Ryan would either sell them out or turn into a mushy romantic if he visited and found the two of them curled up and watching a Jane Austen adaptation.

"I'd like to know the full menu of options," she decides instead, looking back to the bag. "What other methods did you think you could employ to convince me to stay in the hospital overnight?" she says with a raised brow.

"There's music," Castle offers. "I haven't really shared some of my musical tastes with you yet. I was thinking that we could listen to some Parisian café jazz while I trace the words of my favorite French poems on your skin."

She may be beaten and sore, but that still sounds absolutely divine. And the great thing about finally being with him? She can tell him that. "Rick, that sounds wonderful. Maybe we could wait until I'm a little less hurt to try that? Or somewhere you could use the whole of your canvas?" she says and can't believe that she's blushing slightly.

"Okay," he says with a blush of his own. "I'll look forward to it." Then he pauses slightly to look down at the bag, then returns his glance to Beckett. "Our other option is reading. I brought some books for us, thought it might be a nice, intimate-but-workplace-appropriate way to spend time together," he says shyly.

"That sounds perfect," Beckett replies. "What did you bring? Your collected works?"

"Some of them," he says with a smile. Reaching into the bag, he withdraws a few: _In a Hail of Bullets, Heat Wave_, _Storm Rising_. "You could go for one of the greatest hits," he says while reaching again into the bag, "or you could go with something new." With this, he withdraws a rectangular package wrapped in brown parcel paper, addressed to her but delivered care of his address at the loft.

"Is this …," she trails of reverently.

Nodding, he hands her the parcel, which she carefully unwraps. She's surprised that it's not a hardcover, and the paperback's adornment is plain black with block white text. _Turning_, by Alexander Rodgers. She lifts the book to her face and inhales the smell of freshly cut paper.

"Like a fine wine?" Castle chuckles. "As requested: the first pre-production copy. It'll be in hardcover when it comes out, and the design for that is almost done. It's simple, no hot silhouettes or anything. They printed a limited run of these to send around to get some recommendation blurbs and stimulate some interest. There might be some typesetting issues in the book, but it should be pretty close to final."

He's rambling, Beckett realizes, nervous about his artistic endeavor. "Are you happy with it?" she asks him, reaching out for his hand.

"Yeah, I think I am," he says quietly, looking at their connected hands.

"Then I'm sure it'll be amazing," she praises, trying to coax his eyes back to her. It takes a moment, but when he looks up her eyes are waiting for him, showing him that she's focused on him before his book. They sit that way for several minutes, simply enjoying being close and safe.

"Would you be upset if I left a little early?" Castle asks, breaking their silence at last. "I want to hear what you think of it," he says, nodding to the book, "but I'm not sure I'm up for watching you read it. Plus, I'd probably drive you crazy. There's only about 15 minutes left before visiting hours are done, so I can visit Espo on the way out."

"Will you be here in the morning?" Beckett asks coyly, showing him that she understands what he's feeling.

"As soon as they'll let me, with coffee and bear claws in hand," Castle affirms.

"Okay, then go give my good wishes to Espo, make sure he's really okay," Beckett says with a smile. "I'm just going to curl up in bed with Alexander."

Casting a quick glance at the glass panel of the door to the room and seeing it clear, Castle stands and bends to give her another kiss. "Love you, Beckett," he says quietly. Staying there a little longer than is probably wise, he finally stands and walks away while still holding her hand, drawing out the contact until he can't stretch any farther. "Get some rest and I'll see you soon," he promises as the door opens, his words platonic but his look clearly not.

"Until tomorrow, Castle," she replies.

* * *

**NYU Hospital, Saturday ~7:50 AM**

She's not surprised when Castle slips in before visiting hours start. He probably charmed the nurses, the sneak.

"Good morning, sunshine!" he says brightly, with coffee and pastry bag extended.

"Alexander Rodgers, you unbelievable bastard," she greets him in return.

Looking over both shoulders, he gives her an exaggerated shrug and says "Who? I'm Rick Castle, believable bastard. You must have me confused with someone else," he says as he kisses her hello and extends the coffee and pastry bag to her.

"Good thing you brought me coffee after keeping me up half the night," she replies, ignoring his denial. She was awake far longer than she should have been, all because of the incredible book that's sitting in pride of place on her bedside table. She's glad that she didn't extract any details while Castle was writing. It's an amazing tale, and she doesn't think that's her bias showing through.

His story is about Charlie Stevens, a young priest who grows heartsick and despondent about the abuses of the Catholic Church. In a crisis of faith about its earthly organization rather than its spiritual foundation, Charlie leaves the church to become a social worker in Philadelphia. Thinking that his training will serve him well, he's woefully naïve about the social and interpersonal relationships he encounters and the reception he receives. He's immediately renamed "Petey" as soon as he joins his new community, which he likes until he realizes that it stemmed from "PD," local slang for pedophile – his neighbors assume that he was thrown out for exactly the offense that prompted his departure of protest.

The novel is a tour de force for Castle (or Rodgers), veering from highs to lows as it addresses situations that range freely over a broad emotional spectrum. There is wicked humor, deep compassion, heart-wrenching tragedy, inhumane violence, and exasperating despondency, but underlying it all is a frail latticework of empathy and hope. Beckett lost count of the laughs that escaped while she read, the giggles that escaped, the tissues that dried her tears, and the sighs of frustration, disappointment, and satisfaction.

By the novel's end, Charlie has stumbled into a far deeper and more profound set of issues and relationships than he encountered in seminary or service. He's emotionally battered but knows a peace unlike he's found before. More, he seems to be finding his place among his new neighbors. His journey concludes as he sits at the counter of a run-down diner sipping the thin soup he can barely afford, where he's surrounded by those who have come to regard him with interest or caution: a young mother who sees him as a brother and potential uncle; a teen prostitute who sees him as an easy mark; an abused waitress who sees him as a gentle soul and potential lover; a young boy who sees him as the father he never knew; an aging gang-banger who sees him as a threat to the established neighborhood hierarchy; an elderly woman who confuses him for the son she lost more than two decades ago; and two priests who see in an old colleague a maturity and confidence that was never suspected during his religious training and that is badly needed again within the church. On the novel's final page, Charlie drops the spoon into his bowl as he reaches an epiphany about his future, turning to embrace it.

And that's it. There's no indication of what Charlie chose, to whom he turned. It's beautiful, haunting, and remarkably frustrating. Much like its author.

"So, you read it?" Castle asks as he ducks his head while pretending it fish the in bag for a bear claw.

Beckett waits the long seconds it takes for him to lift his gaze back to her. It's hard to believe that this nervous expression belongs to Castle, who's ego is Teflon-grade. But, he's nervous, and her delayed response is fraying those nerves even further.

"Rick, it was magnificent. I couldn't stop reading, even when it was hard to see through the tears or to focus through the laughter," she says with a sweet smile. "I'm not sure I have the right to say this, but I am so, so proud of you."

Castle's teary eyed and his radiant cheeks betray his embarrassment. Improbably, he also seems to have been rendered speechless, so he simply lifts his arms. Scooting to the edge of her bed, Beckett steps into his embrace. Despite the emotion of the moment, he's still aware of her injuries, wrapping her gently but completely. No longer shocked that he's so attuned to her needs, Beckett wonders how she went without these moments for so long.

"So, _Alexander_, I don't suppose there's anything I can do to find out which direction Charlie turned in the diner?" Beckett asks.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Castle teases. "I'm pretty sure that the answer is clear from the story. You might need to read it again."

"Oh, I'll read it again. Many times. It really is wonderful, Rick. Gina was right," she says, knowing that she'll get his attention. As she feels him grow rigid in their embrace, she knows she was right.

"You guys talked about this?" he asks curiously. Aside from generalities, Beckett hadn't shared many of the details of her outing with his ex-wife. But he really should know, Beckett decides, figuring that Gina's faith in him can only be a positive.

"Something she said while we were out made me realize that she wanted you to write a novel, believed that you were capable of so much more than Storm and Heat. So I asked her if your contract was written to intentionally spur you to try," she confesses. "I was a little drunk already when we got to this part of our conversation, so I wasn't very eloquent, but I guessed that she wrote your contract to encourage you to try writing a novel."

"Really?" Castle asks as his voice goes up an extra octave. Seeing Beckett's nod he runs a hand through his hair. "I never would have guessed. I guess she knows me better than I thought," he says as he trails off. After getting lost in thought for a moment, he comes back to himself and asks "Are you ready to get out of here, yet?" Beckett recognizes the deflection, sees that he's still pondering the significance of Gina's belief in him.

"Just waiting for the final check," Beckett replies as there's a knock at the door. When the doctor appears, Castle excuses himself to check on Esposito while Beckett gets her final exam and instructions on how to care for her injuries. By the time Castle returns, she's waiting for him, ready to make her escape.

"So, Doctor Beckett, what's the verdict? A day of rest, a half day, or the full outing?" Castle says, his tone giving away no hints at his own guess.

"I was thinking," she trails off as she captures his attention, "that events are accelerating, and the sooner we move the better. But, I'm not feeling great," she says while looking at Castle, flinching at the admission. "I need a hot bath to relax my muscles. Then, could we do half today and half tomorrow?"

Nodding happily, Castle takes the bag that the hospital provided for Beckett's private effects. As they walk, Beckett makes her inquiries. "How's Espo?"

"He took a good crack on the head," Castle replied, "but seems to be doing okay. He'll be on desk duty for a few days at least. That would have wrecked his mood, except that Martinez was waiting to visit him this morning when I walked by. So, his day might be looking up," he said with a chuckle.

Escorting her down a side hall, Castle takes them down a back stairwell that leads to a walkway to the University, where they walk across campus before catching a cab on the far side, blocks away from the hospital.

"I guess we're being cautious?" Beckett says while she and Castle climb into the taxi.

"Running into a sniper team tends to do that," he says with a grim chuckle. "I've been thinking about yesterday's set-up and it bothers me. He could have taken you out on your way into the auditorium, but he let you be. That suggests that he was gunning for me, or he was waiting until after the ceremony to get both of us."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that, too. He mentioned you while we were on the roof," Beckett confirms. "I think they were looking to take us both out at once, since they had surprise on their side."

"So, once he lost the element of surprise, your guy decided to try to finish you off anyway?" Castle asks. "I guess that makes sense, but it doesn't seem very professional."

"I'd agree with you, Castle," Beckett says as the cab continues its trip towards Beckett's apartment, "except that he should have killed me easily. His partner assumed that it was such a sure thing that he went to get the escape vehicle ready rather than help with me. I'm only here because he got cocky and I got lucky."

That causes a look of pain to flash across Castle's face as he reaches out for her. "If that's the case, then _we_ got lucky. Now come on," he says as the cab pulls to a stop. After pushing some bills at the driver, Castle takes Beckett by the hand as they walk into her lobby. "Let me run you a bath and we'll work on soothing those bruises."

* * *

**Grand Central Station, Saturday ~11:00 AM**

"This is us," Castle says, nodding to the Amtrak loading to their right. As they board the train, Castle guides them to a pair of seats in the middle of the quiet car where they sit across from each other, each able to watch the back of the other. As the train disembarks and heads south, the ticket agent comes through and punches their tickets for DC. To the uninformed observer, they look like any other couple heading to the capital for the weekend.

But as the train slows for its first stop, they disembark and catch a cab, paying the lucky cabbie $100 to go in a six-block circle only to drop them off at the parking lot, where Castle has a rental car waiting. From there, they head out towards Nutley, New Jersey, the location of their first potential Mr. Smith.

Around 12:30, Beckett's awoken from her nap as they pull into the parking lot of a local shopping mall, where they stop for lunch and coffee. Trying to ease into their search following yesterday's ordeal, a slice of suburban consumerism proves to be a balm. Beckett demonstrates that she's not too sore to deliver a fairly powerful slap to Castle's shoulder in response to a remark that he just couldn't resist as they walked past Victoria's Secret.

Surprising Beckett again, they exit the mall by a different door and drive off in a different rental car. At this point, she can't resist getting some details.

"The CIA," Castle says nonchalantly. At Beckett's incredulous look, he shrugs and says "I still have some friends from when I was writing Storm. They're great guys – helpful, willing to bend the rules a bit, and absolutely terrible at poker. What more could you ask for?" he mugs it up. "They cut me some IDs to help stay under the radar for book tours."

"Does anyone know about these?" she asks, though she trusts that Castle already thought about this as he played spy to lay out their trip.

"They know about the recent ones, the ones I gave out at the law firm," he says, referring to the IDs for the Ryans, Esposito, and Beckett and her father. "Mine are older, pre-Nikki. I've got three with established credit cards and histories, so renting cars was easy. Still, you don't want to know how many rental cars I had delivered to various locations this weekend mixing up all three IDs," he says with a laugh.

"Thank you," is the only thing Beckett can say, both for the expense and for the thought he's invested in this.

"No problem. We'll take a vacation when this is done – we're racking up serious membership points," he says. "I'd like to see more of you in that swimsuit."

"I guess the magic's gone," Beckett laments. "I would have thought you'd want to go somewhere you could see me out of the swimsuit." Aside from a gulp and a momentary acceleration of the car, Castle manages to control himself at that comment, while Beckett releases a chiming laugh.

"What's the plan for tonight?" she asks to mask the cringe of pain caused by her laughter.

Taking her hand while the other remains on the wheel, Castle explains. "Tomorrow's trip is to Greenwich, Connecticut. We'll have to go through or around the city, but I don't think we should go home tonight. If we're out and on the loose, I feel a little safer. We'll have to go back tomorrow night – Alexis will be back and your desk duty starts Monday morning."

Groaning about her two week stint on desk duty while her shooting is investigated by an internal review board, Beckett isn't as upset as she would normally be. Two weeks recuperating in the precinct while planning their next move might be a godsend.

"So where are we staying tonight?" she asks coyly.

"Well, I was thinking that we could use our other IDs for a relaxing night at a nice hotel, with no cases, conspiracies, mothers, daughters, fathers, colleagues, or nosy FBI agents around," he replies happily.

After a low growl of approval, the two lapse into a content silence as they continue the drive. After fifteen minutes, Beckett decides it's time to switch gears and get serious. "So, how are we going to handle this? Walk up to the front door and see how he reacts?" she asks.

"I wish I had a better plan for this part of the journey, but that's about it. I'm not sure I've thought of a better approach than the direct one," Castle admits.

"We've got time, let's do a little stakeout when we get there, see if we have a better plan once we get a feel for the situation," Beckett offers. "Who's candidate number one?"

"M. Charles Collins the second," Castle replies. "Now a criminal defense attorney who bills out at $950 an hour. Back in the day junior spent five years doing work as a Public Defense attorney."

"What makes him look good?" Beckett asks.

"He checks all the boxes. He was in the right place at the right time, he was at Roy's wedding reception, and it could've been him in the parking garage based on the photos that are on his firm's website," Castle replies.

Fifteen minutes later, they're parked slightly down the street from the Collins house, a quaint two-story Colonial that isn't as grandiose as some of the neighbors but was clearly built before the land in this neighborhood became so valuable. Castle used a burner phone to call, but there was no answer. They are just settling in for a long wait when a black Mercedes pulls into the driveway. The driver seems to wait longer than normal before stepping out of the car, but when he does, the game changes considerably.

"Huh. He didn't have a cane in the parking garage," Castle notes as they watch Collins walk back to the trunk, from which he extracts a walker. He's just getting it unfolded when Castle is out the door and approaching him. So much for a plan, Beckett thinks ruefully, as she climbs out of the car as quickly as her body will allow.

"Excuse me, sir?" Castle calls from the bottom of the driveway. "My name is Rick. I was just driving by and noticed you pulling that out of your trunk. My mother's just had surgery and I wondered if you could tell me the best place to pick one up?"

Uncomfortable with being approached by a stranger, Collins relaxes slightly when Beckett pulls even with Castle, putting her arm around him and painting the picture of a happy couple.

"Amazon, I expect. I've had this one for a while, but the pharmacy where I got it closed down two years ago. Damn CVS and Wal-Mart – the independent pharmacies are getting killed. Good luck getting the right pills in your bottle …," Collins trails off.

"Yes, of course," Castle says amiably. "I'll give it a look, just wondered if there was anywhere nearby to give them a hands-on inspection. Thanks for taking the time to chat with us," he says as he gives a wave and starts back toward the car with Beckett.

"You mind clueing me in next time you decide to hare off?" she asks as she delivers a sharp poke to his side, mindful of her own injuries.

"Sorry, Beckett, it just seemed so much easier to approach him while he was outside. Plus, I'd feel bad about dragging him to his front door on some pretext. He's obviously not Smith. Trust me, there's nothing online that talks about Collins' using a cane or a walker," Castle says with regret. "Sorry for the wasted trip."

"Not wasted," Beckett says, "just police work, chasing down all the leads. Now come on, let's find a nice place to relax for tonight, then you owe me some French poetry."

* * *

**Greenwich, CT, Sunday ~9:30 AM**

"What are you thinking about over there?" Castle asks as they again wait in their car, another new rental after Castle pulled a switch at a mall in White Plains. She's bemused to admit that he might know what he's doing. This rental is decidedly upscale, an Audi A8, which Beckett didn't even know you could rent, much less have delivered somewhere. The doors that money can open, she marvels. The car is an excellent choice as this neighborhood is certainly expensive enough that a Ford Taurus or Toyota Camry would attract undue attention. Instead, their sit and wait in plush leather comfort behind tinted windows.

"I'm thinking that this is exactly one of the things I worried about when I imagined getting into a relationship with you," Beckett confesses, stretching gingerly in the passenger seat.

"More stakeout duty? _That's_ what you worried about?" Castle asks, surprised.

"No, I'm worried about my focus. Here we are on a case – our 'most important case' – and I keep drifting back to last night," she says with a blush. A blush! How ridiculous, she thinks, but that's where she finds herself. "It was … incredible."

"It was," he agrees earnestly and almost shyly, not a trace of bravado to be found. "We're good together," he says simply, reaching out to take her hand. "And just wait until we're both healed!"

They sit quietly, enjoying their time together, but also hoping that their wait isn't in vain. The plan was to arrive in time to catch their next candidate, Michael Rutherford, in the morning, hopefully before or after church services if he partakes. They're in for a long wait if he's a golfer, is out sailing, or off on some other trip.

After about 45 minutes of waiting, chatting, reading, and sipping coffee, they perk up as a BMW turns into the entrance of brick driveway. The garage door is already rising when it turns in and on its way down before the car came to a complete stop inside.

"No approaching this guy on the driveway, I guess," Castle says with a shrug.

"Let's do it, Castle," she replies surely, happy that this approach is more reasoned and planned. Leaving the Audi parked on the street a few houses down from their destination, they are silent on their approach to the front door.

"Here we go," Beckett says as she rings the doorbell with her knuckle, even now wary of leaving prints behind. After a few moments, they hear locks disengaging before the door opens.

"Mr. Smith," Castle says calmly, "good to see you again."

'Smith,' aka Michael Rutherford, looks poleaxed, but his shock is brief. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you trying to get me killed?"

"We'd like to talk to you about the file," Castle says baldly, "and where we go from here."

A range of emotions flickers across Rutherford's face. He's clearly not happy that they're standing on his front step, wary of his loss of anonymity. But he's also concerned about causing a scene and the potential of drawing more attention. After a sigh he practically growls "Fine, _you_ can come in," nodding at Castle. "But I'll be damned if she's welcome in my home."

* * *

.

A/N: Apologies for the long chapter – it took more words than I thought it would to hit the break point for this bit. Also, I know that the credits list him as "Mr. Michael Smith," but you can't tell me that Smith is his real name if he wanted to survive. If his real name's been revealed in canon I missed it, so "Rutherford" it is. As for his beef with Beckett, the next chapter should post sometime over the holiday weekend. Actually, this is probably a good time to mention that this is AU, and there might be some deivations from canon in the chapter above or in the last handful remaining. Paraphrasing Beckett from earlier in this story, have confidence, hold on tight, and enjoy the ride.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below

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_A range of emotions flickers across Rutherford's face. He's clearly not happy that they're standing on his front step, wary of his loss of anonymity. But he's also concerned about causing a scene and the potential of drawing more attention. After a sigh he practically growls "Fine, you can come in," nodding at Castle. "But I'll be damned if she's welcome in my home."_

* * *

**Greenwich, CT, Sunday ~11:10 AM**

Since they split up, Beckett's ratcheting annoyance has been matched only by her anxiety. After Rutherford's ultimatum, a tense, terse conversation resulted in a pale imitation of a plan: Castle ventured inside after they set a time for Beckett's return. She wouldn't be a sitting target out in front of the house, and if Castle wasn't waiting outside at the appointed time, she'd call for reinforcements, consequences be damned. Checking the time on her phone yet again, Beckett sees that her wait is almost complete: in five minutes, she'll take her drive past Rutherford's house.

She uses that time to reconsider the topic that's commanded her attention since leaving Castle at the house: the potential reasons for Rutherford's reaction to her. As Roy's friend, he must blame her for his death. Which is asinine, Beckett thinks – as much as she's haunted by her former Captain's demise, he made his own bed years ago, while she was still a child. Besides, Rutherford made the deal for her life after Roy was killed, which doesn't make sense, either.

Beckett lets these thoughts float away as she puts the car in gear and heads back towards Rutherford's house. Their position is perilous and she needs to be completely focused to protect Castle and herself.

Even seeing him walking towards the end of the driveway isn't enough to make her relax. Though she's relieved, it's almost too good to be true. Until he's in the car and they are moving again, she's not going to relax. As he approaches the car, though, she sees that he's empty handed. She brings the car to a stop and unlocks the door, anxious to learn what's going on.

"Kate," Castle sighs as he sinks into the car. It's a one word benediction – prayer, exclamation, and celebration all rolled into one.

"Hey babe," Beckett replies, then colors at her uncharacteristic use of a pet name. It must be the stress, she tells herself.

Despite his obvious pleasure, Castle remains serious. "Pull over up ahead, we need to talk," he says, and Beckett's stomach clenches at this dreaded phrase. While it usually means trouble of a different sort, it doesn't sound great in their current circumstances, either.

Once the car is pulled over and idling, Castle turns in his chair, takes her hand, and tries to explain. "I need to be quick – I don't want him left alone very long. I'm staying – he'll give us the file, but it's in a safe deposit box. We'll go in tomorrow morning at retrieve the file at 9:00."

"That's it, he's just turning it over?" she says, but she doesn't need to see the look on his face to figure it out. "Wait a minute, what did you promise him?"

"He's inside writing up a contract now. _Lawyers_," he huffs, trying to lighten things up. Seeing that she's not in the mood, he returns to his explanation.

"Like everything else, we – I – had this completely backwards. The deal I made wasn't really to protect you," he reports, frustrated by the inaccuracy of his own conclusions. Seeing that he has her complete attention, he explains. "It was to protect Evelyn. As Rutherford promised Roy he would do."

"What are you talking about?" Beckett asks, growing heartsick yet again.

"Roy knew that if Bracken went down and the whole plot was revealed, his name would be tarnished despite all the years he put in trying to make amends," Castle says. "Like we figured weeks ago, if Roy's complicity is discovered, his pension benefits may stop and Evelyn and the kids pay for Roy's crimes. Roy sent Rutherford the file and asked him to take care of Evelyn in case of the worst."

"So that's it? The man who I thought was my mentor, who participated in the scheme that got my mother killed, shelters a murderer even from the grave?" Beckett says incredulously, torn between rage and soul-crushing disappointment, both in her former Captain and in her inability to see what was going on.

"Kate," Castle says clearly, "Kate, please stay with me," he says as he moves his head around to enter her line of sight and reestablish eye contact.

"I'd like to say that Roy just passed along a general request, that Rutherford's choice of how to protect Evelyn was his own idea," Castle says, "but I think that's unlikely. I'm coming up with few plausible alternate theories for what Roy might have thought could be done with the file in hand but without disclosing the kidnap-for-ransom scheme. I think we're going to need to sit down when this is all over and figure out how we reconcile the different facets of Roy's personality and legacy."

"So this is why Rutherford didn't want me in his house – because my investigation jeopardizes Evelyn's paycheck?" Beckett asks harshly.

"I think he believes that if you'd have just left things alone, his friend Roy would still be alive and there wouldn't be any concern about needing to protect Evelyn," Castle speculates, trying to speak calmly but getting increasingly upset himself.

As Castle pointed out, Beckett can be selfish – she knows this about herself and has been trying to address it. But she had never imagined that Captain Montgomery could have been so selfish. Sure, Evelyn is innocent in all of this, but Roy was not: he, better than anyone else, would be able to appreciate what Bracken would do if left unchecked. Hell, just Friday he had two killers poised to add to the list of his carnage!

Casting through her memory of her early days when Montgomery first discovered her working on her mother's case, she's left wondering if his interest and concern wasn't about ensuring that nothing jeopardized his family more than assisting on her quest. Montgomery made the original deal with Bracken. Did he do that for her protection or his own? Was he just playing for time?

Castle's right, she thinks – this is too much to process immediately, and figuring out Montgomery's motivations won't help right now.

"So, you just walked in and he started talking?" Beckett asks, trying to get the conversation back on track so that she can figure out what she thinks of Castle's plan to stay here.

"We talked about chess," Castle says. At her inquisitive/annoyed look, he continues. "He told me once that a well-placed pawn – that's me – can take down a king. It was supposed to poetic and alluring, a way to capture my attention with intrigue. I reminded him of that phrase and mentioned that I'm very well positioned now."

"Because you know who he is, where he lives, and can rupture his deal with Roy?" Beckett surmises quickly.

"Exactly. Holding back the file accomplishes nothing if we're pursuing Bracken anyway. I might have given him reason to think that we've got more going for us than is actually true. But, if we're pushing the case anyway, then Rutherford's only play is to make sure we win. If we raise the issue and Bracken slips away like a typical politician, then the worst might happen: Bracken's free and Roy's crimes come out. So, his motivations have changed," Castle concludes, letting a bit of spite color his tone.

"Then what's the contract about?" Beckett asks.

"It's about Evelyn. I've agreed to help her out if she loses her benefits in all this," he says with a shrug. Seeing her expression, he quickly adds "Look, don't get upset about this. We both know that the Department can sometimes protect its own, and I can afford it if not."

"That contract will never stand up," Beckett argues. "There's no way that anything established in these circumstances will be accepted by a court."

"Rutherford knows that," Castle agrees, "he's the attorney. The contract is just a tool, a way to make sure that we're invested in protecting Evelyn. It's a way for him to keep his promise to Roy. Even if it won't stand up, the contract is enough to drag me into court if I try to walk away."

"So, now what? You walk back in there with that bastard and hang out until the bank opens in the morning?" Beckett asks, unimpressed with this plan.

With a sigh, Castle agrees. "I'm not thrilled with it either, but I think it's our best choice. We've got the new burner phones. As soon as I get the file, I'll make some stops, get copies, give us some insurance. You and Espo are on desk duty tomorrow – I'll call the burner and we'll figure out where to meet and what to do with whatever's in the file."

"I don't like this Castle, it feels too improvised, too exposed. We're out on a limb and we know Bracken's moving against us," Beckett confesses.

"Hey, you're the super detective, not me. I'm a little freaked out right now," Castle confesses, "and that's not even thinking about tonight's slumber party," he says, and she's grateful again for his attempts to lighten the conversation. "But that reminds me of a favor I need to ask of you. Will you stay at the loft tonight? If I can't be there, I'd feel more at ease if you were there to watch over Alexis and Mother. Actually, you could invite the boys over, bring them up to speed so that we're all ready to roll tomorrow morning."

"Of course, Rick," Beckett replies. She's surprised to realize that this isn't just a favor to him – the thought of being alone tonight, which would usually energize her, seems daunting and lonely. The trademarked Castle family comfort seems to be making her soft.

"Okay, then I'd better get back inside. Please be careful," he says as he grips her hand. "I've waited far too long for this and I'm not going to let it go."

"Love you," Beckett says quietly. "Come back safe."

"'Course I will," Castle says with a jaunty swagger, "once I'm back, we're going to have some fun planning the end of this thing." Then, after reaching back to grab his bag and giving her a lingering kiss, he opens the door and walks back to Rutherford's house.

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Monday ~9:15 AM**

Beckett's been a wreck this morning after suffering an restless night at the loft and wondering all morning about Castle's trip to secure the file. Her conversation with him last night was brief – neither was comfortable discussing much on the phones for fear of being overheard – but still calming. She should have slept in his bed, she admits to herself now. She was too self-conscious to consider it last night, not yet comfortable with taking that step in front of his mother and daughter, but maybe immersing herself in his room would have helped her relax. At least Gates hasn't been in yet today, called over to meet with the Captain whose officers are working the events from the graduation.

Beckett's reprieve ends when the elevator doors open and Captain Gates emerges, walking briskly to her office. Making eye contact with Ryan and a still-bandaged Esposito, they steel themselves for the inquiry that's about to come. In that short period of time Gates has already returned and now calls them to join her.

Gates is about to turn and walk back to her desk when she sees Beckett shaking her head. Stopping in place, Gates looks at Beckett who motions to the Captain to follow her. Beckett leads Gates to the room upstairs that they had used for their earliest secret calls with Castle. Ryan's already swept the room this morning, and he and Esposito will be up in a few minutes, again looking to avoid traveling to the room as a group.

After Beckett completes her wanding of Gates, she sits down on a makeshift chair and invites Gates to do the same. Chagrined, Gates looks around the room with a discerning eye.

"I take it this is not the first time you've conducted business here?" Gates asks Beckett, who merely shakes her head.

"Ryan and Esposito will be up shortly," Beckett says instead. "We're concerned about people noticing us moving around together outside of Homicide."

Nodding, Gates leans in to engage. "So, Detective, I believe I've been more than patient, but it's time to tell me what's going on."

"Actually, sir, can we wait for Ryan and Esposito? They should be present as well. In the meantime, can you tell me the status of the Marlowe Prep investigation?" Beckett counters.

After an assessing look and a slight nod, Gates relents. "Your assailant is dead, but his prints were on the rifle, the case, and the grenade that was recovered from the scene." Beckett hadn't missed the eyebrow quirk in reference to the grenade. "His companion has not said a word. He's being held without bail but has not communicated with anyone, even court-appointed counsel. He had a burner phone that received a text message from another pre-paid cell shortly after we mobilized at the precinct. It seems your suspicions were well-founded," Gates says with a nod as Ryan and Esposito enter the room.

"Their van is in impound, but has proven unremarkable so far. Nothing inside except their fingerprints and rental agreement, leading back to a fake identity," Gates concludes.

"Who's running the case?" Esposito asks.

"Bill Monroe at the 37th," Gates replies. "And I have some friends from IA who are interested in lending a hand," she finishes with a grim smile. "But now, I need to know what's going on, who you're investigating, how long it's been going on, and why I wasn't informed."

As Beckett takes a deep breath and prepares to tell the modified version of the story that she worked out with the boys last night at Castle's loft, her reprieve arrives in the form of a ringing burner cell.

"Sir, that's Castle," Becket says as she reaches for the phone. "He's … obtaining key evidence under dangerous circumstances. I'll explain, but I need to take this call."

"On speaker," Gates commands. Beckett relents with a growing sense of unease.

"Hey Castle. You're on speaker with me, the boys, and Captain Gates," Beckett says quickly, earning a cross look from Gates who knows full well that Castle was just warned to watch what he says.

"I've got it," Castle answers, tone strong and confident. "I'm on my way in."

"Where are you, Mr. Castle?" Gates asks, provoking a concerned look from Esposito behind her.

"I'm in a rental car, about to switch vehicles," Castle answers, to Beckett's hidden satisfaction. His comment was 100 percent true and 100 percent unhelpful. Perfect.

"Mr. Castle, if you have sensitive information on a police matter, you need to let us help bring you in. As you well know, rental records can be searched," Gates replies.

"It's taken care of," Castle replies. "I've got … oh crap."

"Castle?" Beckett cries out in alarm.

"I've got bad guys waiting for me," he yelps, his voice obscured by squealing tires and the sound of crumpling metal.

"Castle?!" Beckett cries out, but there is no response. Checking the phone, she sees that the connection is still live, and she can hear background noise.

After a few moments, she exhales heavily as Castle's voice returns. "They were waiting," he says in a rush. "But they weren't waiting when I picked up this car. They must've cracked one of my IDs," he thinks out loud, trying to figure out how they found him when Beckett would much prefer that he think about how to get somewhere safe. She's about to make that point when he interjects.

"Beckett, pull everyone in. If they know about me, they might know about the file. If so, we've got to protect them. Get our families, Jenny, Lanie, Bob, anyone else, and get them to the precinct. Captain Gates," Castle says before the sound of more screeching tires, "pull your family in, too."

"What the hell is going on?!" Gates demands, clearly beside herself now. But before anyone can answer, the unmistakable pop of gunfire is heard from the speaker phone.

"Gotta go," Castle gasps out. "Call later." Then, after three more pops, the line goes dead.

"I want answers _NOW_," Gates demands, but Beckett ignores her as she stands to depart.

"No, sir," Beckett replies, preparing herself for whatever battle she needs to fight. "You heard Castle – the people we care about are in jeopardy, potential targets or hostages. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but we need to worry about protection, first."

"Detective Beckett," Gates says while standing and focusing on her. "Where is Mr. Castle? We need to send cars to intercept."

Feeling the pressure of the threat to her loved ones and the weight of her Captain's inquiry, Beckett opts for an abbreviated answer that cannot harm Castle but will let them get moving. "I don't know," she says, speaking up again when Gates makes it clear that she's going to push. "We were in Connecticut yesterday when we split up, but his source was going to meet him somewhere this morning. I don't know where he is."

After a brief standoff during which Gates stared at Beckett, the Captain relents. "Fine. What's the plan?"

"We need to be fast and quiet," Beckett replies. "Ryan, can you get Jenny and my dad, then have Jenny check in with Evelyn? Espo – take LT and get the mayor. I'll get Castle's family and contact Lanie," Beckett concludes, but Gates interrupts.

"No. Detective Esposito, you'll collect my family. LT will go with Ryan. I'll get the mayor. That way, if he asks questions, we have plausible deniability about withholding any information, since I don't know what the hell's going on," Gates concludes acerbically.

"One more thing," Beckett says, while her mind is still reeling about Castle's safety and exactly how far she should trust Gates. "Let's go down to Homicide and break up from there. When we go, you should make some commotion about the Cartwright case," she says to Gates. "People are going to notice what we're up to, so if they hear us talking about Cartwright, they'll assume something's happened on that front. It's a weak smokescreen, but it might buy us some time."

With a contemplative nod, Gates agrees. "That's a good idea, even if I don't know what this is actually about. If the DA gets his nose out of joint about making waves on the Cartwright front, I can smooth that later. Let's move," she says, and they break out to collect the people they care about. All of them except the one for whom Beckett is most concerned. With a prayer for his safety, she heads down to Homicide and prepares to collect Castle's family.

* * *

**Castle residence, Monday ~11:00 AM**

"Katherine, dear," Martha says happily as she pulls the door open, "did you forget something? We would have been happy to bring it to you."

"Hi Kate," Alexis says on her way down the stairs. Unlike her grandmother, however, Alexis immediately picks up on Beckett's unease. "What happened? Where's Dad?" she asks with some urgency.

"Your Dad is ... on the run," Beckett summarizes. "He's working on our project, but someone started chasing him on his way in this morning. We need to get you both into the precinct so he knows you're safe," she says. Anticipating questions, she prods as gently as she can. "I'll answer any questions you have, but the sooner we get moving, the better."

"Certainly, Katherine," Martha replies, already in motion. "Shall we plan to be there overnight?"

"That's probably best," Beckett admits. "I'm not sure it'll be wise to come back. Better bring what you need to keep yourself entertained. Grab Rick's new book, that'll keep you busy," she says, trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

Her comment has an unanticipated reaction as both redheads freeze in place on the stairs. "You have Dad's new book? The one that he won't tell us anything about?" Shaking her head in disbelief, Alexis starts rushing up the stairs again to collect what she'll need, leaving a contemplative Beckett waiting at the foot of the stairs.

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Monday ~12:30 PM**

Thanks to their stop at the morgue to speak with Lanie, who opted to stay in that building at least until her shift is over, Beckett's group is the last to return to the precinct. As they step off of the elevator, Beckett notices that the lounge blinds are drawn and assumes that's where people have set up. Opening the door, Jenny Ryan and her father rise to greet her.

"Martha Rodgers, Alexis Castle, you know Jenny. This is my father, Jim," Beckett says in introduction. While looking at Alexis to highlight the parallel of their situations, she says "He's very important to me, so please treat him well." With that, she gives her dad a quick hug and turns to catch Jenny as well. "I'm sorry to run, but I need to find out what's going on. I'm afraid that we're going to keep you a little in the dark today, for everyone's safety, but we'll tell you what we can."

"Kate," Alexis says with a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about us. Go help Dad."

As she's about to leaving the lounge behind, Beckett stops in her tracks. Closing the door that she'd already opened, she turns back the this small group of loved ones. "Listen," she says quietly. "We're working on something sensitive, and we know that there are different factions in play. We might need to get a message to you, or move you somewhere else. Don't go with anyone you don't recognize. Wait," she corrects herself, "not to sound like Castle, but we'll have a password. How about…," Beckett trails off, trying to think of a good phrase.

"How about 'leprechaun trap?'" Alexis suggests.

"Perfect," Beckett beams. "I'm probably being paranoid, but I'll feel better knowing that we have a way to get an authenticated message to you. Now just relax and we'll take care of things."

Leaving Alexis to explain the origin of their password, Beckett starts to move towards her desk when Esposito gives a wave to divert her approach.

"What's going on?" Beckett asks as she approaches Esposito's desk, where Ryan looks on closely.

"The Gates family is down on the second floor – they have a bigger lounge and her husband knows Swenson," Esposito explains the nods towards the Captain's office. "She's in her office with the mayor."

"Okay, we'll deal with her when we have to," Beckett says tersely. "Any word from Castle?"

"You've got the phone, we were hoping that you could tell us," Ryan says with disappointment. "So I guess he hasn't called?"

"Nothing yet," Beckett admits grimly, increasingly worried about the amount of time that's passed since their last contact with Castle, and concerned that her attempts to call him have gone unanswered.

"Gates made some calls," Esposito says quietly. "New York and Connecticut troopers are on the lookout for cars on a chase or abandoned vehicles in areas with reports of shots fired. She's hoping to identify where Castle was when he called us."

"Did she tell you that she was doing this or did you find out some other way?" Beckett asks quietly. The three detectives look at each other, all knowing that Beckett's question is an attempt to gauge Gates and figure out why she's trying to locate Castle.

"I overheard her," Esposito starts and Beckett scowls, but then he continues. "She was in her office and speaking loudly with the door open. I don't think she was concerned about being secretive."

"Was it just for show?" Beckett asks, wondering if Gates is instead conning them in some way.

"No," Ryan replies. "I've gotten a few inquiries from Connecticut troopers looking for details, so someone called it in."

As if prompted by the discussion, Ryan's desk phone starts to ring. He picks it up and after a few moments the tone of his voice draws their attention.

"Okay, let me know if you find anything else," Ryan says as he hangs up.

"That was the Stamford police department. They found a suspicious rental car in the train station parking lot," he explains, looking sick. "When they tracked the car to the agency, it turns out that the ID used to rent it was fake and that flagged our request."

"Any sign of Castle?" Beckett asks quickly.

Pausing slightly, Ryan looks up at her from his chair. "They have a blood sample we could match. The car has been in some collisions and there are bullet holes and fragments of what looks like a cell phone. Based on blood spatter, the driver was hit."

"Rick's been shot?" Beckett hears from behind her and turns to see the mayor's concerned face. A small, dark-skinned woman with a heart-shaped face and immaculate suit stands to his left and Gates to his right. Seeing the nod from the Captain, Beckett explains.

"We don't know. A damaged rental car turned up at a train station in Connecticut and they called in response to our BOLO," Beckett said. "It appears that the driver of the car was injured, potentially by gunfire."

"You still haven't heard from Mr. Castle?" Gates asks Beckett, receiving only a forlorn shake of the head in response.

"Stamford PD is going to send over the labwork on the blood in the rental car," Ryan says somberly. "We'll compare it against Castle's when it arrives."

"Alright," Gates says brusquely. "Detectives, I want you back where we spoke this morning in 15 minutes, and I'll look forward to hearing the details then." Having set up their meeting, Gates turns to escort the mayor and his aide to the lounge at his request to see Alexis and Martha.

Leaving Ryan behind in case the email from Stamford arrives, Beckett and Esposito head upstairs. Out of paranoia and just to satisfy the burning itch to do something, they both wand and inspect the room again for listening devices. Of course, if Gates is involved, then she doesn't need a bug as they've invited her into the conversation.

Sooner than they'd like, the door opens and Gates and Ryan enter, followed by the mayor and his aide. "All, this is Anna Mazar, my chief of staff," he says, after which he gives Mazar the name of each detective. The mayor's presence alters the dynamic of the room considerably – rather than tear into them, Gates is subdued around the man who is arguably her highest superior. That he's a friend of Castle's might also be affecting the tenor of this meeting.

In fact, everyone seems to be subtly checking each other out, trying to gauge the dynamics in play when they are startled by a piercing trill. Beckett's hope surges as she lifts the burner phone, but frowns in confusion at the unfamiliar number calling the phone to which only Castle has the number. Seeing Gates about to speak, Beckett nods and activates the speaker function while they all stand in a huddle around the phone.

"Castle, is it you? We're all here, even Gates and the mayor. Where are you? Are you okay?" Beckett asks, hoping that others cannot hear the telltale tremor in her voice.

"I'm okay," Castle says in a quiet voice. "Tired."

"Castle, we found a car. Were you shot?" Beckett asks, worried about his lack of energy on the phone.

"Little bit," he replies, prompting an exhalation that's part chuckle and part sob from Beckett, who can't believe that he's joking even now.

"You were a 'little bit' shot? If it's only a little bit, you don't get to whine about it, you big baby," Beckett says, trying to funnel her emotions into teasing. "Where are you? Can we come get you?"

"Headin' north," Castle mumbles. "'Member the address? I'll meet you there. Bring some band-aids, 'kay?"

"Hold on, Castle, we're on our way," Beckett says, recalling the address for his cabin hideout that he had them memorize that night at the law firm. "I'm going to lose the connection when I go get the car, but call me back, okay? You need anything, call me, right?"

"It's 'call me, maybe,' Beckett, not 'call me, right,'" he says tiredly. Good lord, if he's joking about pop songs, he must be delirious from blood loss, Beckett worries. She's about to tell him to go to the hospital, file be damned, when he cuts back in. "Just hurry, Beckett. And no family, just the pros. Keep them safe," he says. "I've gotta go, gotta focus on driving. See you in a few hours, partner." With no warning, the connection ends.

Beckett's already moving toward the door. "We'll take my cruiser," she offers.

"We'll need two cars," the mayor replies in a serious tone, "we won't all fit in one."

"Sir, no," Gates interjects. "Mr. Castle was right – this is a situation for professionals. You need to stay here."

"I'm going," the mayor counters, just as stubbornly as Castle would do in his place. "As I think we all know, it's probably my fault he's in this situation," he says while looking directly at Beckett, who returns a small nod.

"Well, _I_ don't know that," Gates says with exasperation.

"Then ride with us," the mayor says while nodding to Beckett. "It's probably time to put all the pieces together anyway."

* * *

**Interstate Highway 684 Northbound, Westchester County, Monday ~4:00 PM**

"… which is why I asked you to minimize his role at the press conference," the mayor concludes, having laid out the story much as Castle had deduced. Stung by the political betrayal, the mayor knew that someone higher up was trying to destroy his career, and unable to trust that more of his staff wasn't infiltrated, he turned to an old friend in the hopes of finding at least a shield, if not a sword.

They're hurtling north, not speeding too much and running silent for fear that calls to other law enforcement agencies might alert their enemies of the situation. The SUV is luxurious, and Beckett again thanks the heavens that Castle raised such a bright daughter. It was Alexis who, as they were about to depart, pointed out that police vehicles are all micro-chipped and capable of being tracked. With a quick call and shockingly few questions asked, Castle's car service dropped off the Escalade in which they're all traveling. Out of paranoia, though, Beckett's using her phone's Waze app to direct them to their destination, unwilling to display the address or have it entered into the vehicle's memory.

"What I don't understand," Beckett says, "is why you didn't just tell Castle what was going on. He figured it out eventually, but this whole thing could've run so much smoother if it had been planned out." Taking her eyes from the road, she makes eye contact with the mayor in the rear-view mirror, which is wide enough to show the offense that his aide has taken at her challenge to her boss.

Rubbing his head, Weldon looks chagrined. "That might not have been my proudest moment," he confesses. "After your investigation, my faith in Rick was a little shaken and I was angry. I figured that we'd be okay eventually, but I didn't mind making him work for it a bit. I'm a politician," he explains with a shrug, "which makes me at least as fallible and subject to tantrums as anyone else."

"What _I _don't understand," chimes in Gates from the front passenger seat, "is how this ties into an investigation that leads to a sniper team ready to take out attendees at a high school graduation!"

"What?!" Weldon asks, and Beckett knows she's out of time. With an hour and a half of driving still ahead of them, she won't be able to dodge a bit of an explanation this time.

"Castle has an anonymous source that warned us about the conspiracy to frame you, sir," Beckett says while casting a quick glance at Weldon in the mirror. "You should know that Castle tried every way he could," she pauses and casts a quick glance at Gates, "within appropriate bounds, to make sure we weren't jumping to conclusions on your investigation. Even without his source, he never believed that you would have done something like that."

Seeing Weldon's grateful nod, Beckett continues. "That same anonymous source has provided Castle with information on other cases." Looking at Gates, she says "Homicide cases involving my mother and Captain Montgomery."

"Oh lord," Gates replies with a sigh. "I should have known. How long have you been pursuing this case?"

"Honestly, sir? Since I joined the force," Beckett admits defiantly. "Castle reinvigorated my efforts, especially after my shooting last year."

Pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes, Gates thinks briefly before firing off her next question. "So, I take it from the sniper at Alexis' graduation, his activities in Connecticut, and his reference to a file, that Mr. Castle has discovered the identity of his anonymous source?"

"I think so, sir," Beckett says, using her attention on the road to help mask her lie. "He told me that he had something to look into this weekend, and I think that was it. From his call today, I'd assume that he at least made contact."

"He said that he had 'it,' which must be this file that was mentioned. What's in it?" Gates asks, and Beckett again claims ignorance. "I don't know, sir," Beckett replies. "We're hoping that it's something that will reveal who is behind all this."

"So, he has something of value to someone that's committed murders over a span of years and is capable of sabotaging the mayor of New York City," Gates summarizes. "And you didn't think this was worth mentioning to me?"

"Frankly, sir, I questioned whether we should trust you," Beckett says baldly. "You've worked IA. What would you have done if I came to you with a theory about a political conspiracy that also happened to touch on my most personal issue and the death of my former Captain?" Beckett doesn't give Gates a chance to answer. "You would have scoffed and ordered me to stop. Just as you did with my shooting. If Castle has evidence, we'll be able to investigate properly," Beckett says, while also thinking that there's no way in hell she's letting that evidence out of her sight.

"We'll see what's in this file, and Mr. Castle's condition, and then we're going to sit down and talk about protocols," Gates says ominously, "as well as disciplinary consequences to pursuing unsanctioned investigations."

Noting the distinct lack of support from the mayor behind her, Beckett wears a scowl as their vehicle continues to speed northward.

* * *

**Gravel road near Hillsdale, New York, Monday ~ 5:30 PM**

As they creep along the gravel road that meanders through the rolling wooded foothills just west of the Massachusetts border, Beckett's glad they didn't arrive after dark. With all the trees it's already difficult to make out landmarks through the shadows, and it would be virtually impossible in the dark of night.

At last, she spies the forked tree that Castle told her to use as a landmark during their call fifteen minutes ago. He sounded a little better, off the road and bolstered by whatever rations he had stored at the cabin. Still, she's desperate to see him, tend to his injuries, and to make sure he's safe. While he hadn't said much, he had used the word 'stock,' which is a code word they'd developed for his Quantico trip that means spy or surveillance. She's already hyper-sensitive to the pssibility, but she's also not sure that Castle is completely lucid right now.

Turning after the forked tree, it's a two minute drive until a small cabin comes into view. The cabin itself is a modest, one-story building. The dry well that Castle mentioned is in plain view, along with an outbuilding that looks like a small barn that was converted to a garage or shed. Parked at a funny angle to the cabin and with the door still ajar sits a gray Nissan Altima, another in Castle's long list of rental cars.

Doors are opening before the SUV comes to a complete stop. Entrusting Weldon with the first-aid kit, the detectives and Gates pull their weapons and advance slowly on the cabin out of an abundance of caution, fanning out with Weldon and Mazar sheltered behind them.

Beckett's the first one through the door that Ryan pushed open, scanning the interior quickly. She's enough of a professional to make sure that the living room is clear without lingering on Castle, who is sitting in an ancient but plush chair angled at the fireplace. Once she's confirmed that the room is clear, though, she holsters her weapon and hurries to his side, leaving the boys to check the rest of the cabin.

Looking groggy, Castle must have been napping when they arrived. Despite the crackling fire, he's also got a careworn afghan pulled up to his neck. Beckett reaches out to cover his hand on the armrest as she says "Hey, partner," to get his attention.

"Kate," he sighs happily. Then, noticing others in the room, he comes more fully awake, trying to sit up in his chair and wincing as a result. Noticing his distress, Beckett tugs on the afghan, which falls to reveal that Castle's removed his shirt and has a wadded up, blood-stained dishtowel secured to his left shoulder with silver duct tape.

"Interesting field medicine, Castle," Beckett says in an attempt to keep things light. "Is it okay if we take a look and clean that up with supplies that might actually be sterile?"

Without waiting for a response, Beckett turns to get the first-aid kit from Weldon and sees that everyone has converged in the cabin's small living room. As Weldon hands her the kit, Beckett is just setting it on the floor and opening it when Gates interrupts.

"While you tend to Mr. Castle's injuries, Detective, I'd like to see the file that's caused so much fuss," Gates says from her seat on the room's small sofa. Beckett doesn't like this plan at all and turns to make eye contact with Ryan and Esposito just in time to see Ryan fall. Standing behind him and pointing at Esposito the gun that's just struck Ryan's head is Anna Mazar, the mayor's aide.

"Actually, Captain, I'll take that file," Weldon says. "Rick, I'm really sorry about this."

* * *

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A/N: This weekend just turned into a work weekend, so I'm posting now before getting to it. The next chapter's just about done, so the usual Wednesday update looks good. Thanks again for all the reviews, kind words, constructive criticism, and PMs – the feedback makes writing that much more fun. Also, a quick word of apology – I've been so absorbed in writing that I haven't done much reading. For the authors out there with stories that I look forward to, sorry I've been slacking but I hope to catch up sometime soon.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below

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"_While you tend to Mr. Castle's injuries, Detective, I'd like to see the file that's caused so much fuss," Gates says from her seat on the room's small sofa. Beckett doesn't like this plan at all and turns to make eye contact with Ryan and Esposito just in time to see Ryan fall. Standing behind him and pointing at Esposito the gun that's just struck Ryan's head is Anna Mazar, the mayor's aide._

"_Actually, Captain, I'll take that file," Weldon says. "Rick, I'm really sorry about this."_

* * *

**Castle cabin near Hillsdale, New York, Monday ~ 6:00 PM**

When no one moves, Anna Mazar takes control. "On your knees," she says while motioning to the detectives and Gates. Since Beckett's already kneeling next to Castle she has no way to counter Mazar, who has positioned herself out of range of the detectives and holds her sidearm with a trained stance and unwavering posture. Probably a professional, Beckett realizes to her dismay.

Once they are kneeling and have their fingers laced behind their heads, Mazar relieves them of their weapons, then has Gates secure each of the detectives at wrists and ankles with plastic zip cuffs that Mazar pulled from her pocketbook. Once completed, Mazar secures the Captain, effectively eliminating any resistance: Castle appears to have passed out again, Ryan is unconscious and bound, and Beckett, Esposito, and the Captain are restrained.

"Wake him up," Weldon says as he nods to Castle. Mazar approaches and delivers a series of sharp slaps to Castle's cheeks, rousing him as well as Beckett's temper.

"Rick, where's the file?" Weldon says to a groggy Castle. Disoriented, Castle looks over at Beckett and seems confused to see her bound. Before his wits return, his eyes glance toward the firewood rack next to the fireplace.

Following his gaze, Weldon steps over to the rack and pokes around, extracting a manila envelope tied shut with red string wound around a circular red tab. While he unwinds the string, Beckett casts a sidelong glance at Mazar, who keeps a vigilant eye on her captives even though they are bound.

Pulling a folder from the envelope, Weldon starts flipping through the pages, releasing a hum or other sound on occasion. He's too far away for her to see the details, but Beckett can see the pages as he turns each one. They are a variety of colors and sizes, suggesting a collection of different types of documents, a range of potentially incriminating evidence.

Beckett's entered a new level of hell: the man she loves is seriously wounded and disoriented and suffering yet another betrayal; the evidence she needs to end her lifelong quest is just inches out of reach; and she's almost certain to die within hours, if not minutes. Taking four law enforcement officers captive is not a small offense for a nameless criminal. Someone who lives in the public spotlight would never take this step unless he planned to ensure that there was no chance of discovery.

Weldon closes the folder but does not return it to the envelope. Instead, he extracts a cell phone and dials a number, waiting briefly until his call is answered. His side of the conversation is terse: "We have the file. Yes. Okay. Four, plus Castle. A cabin near Hillsdale, New York – I'm there now, so track my phone. I … I … alright, alright, we'll take care of it. Okay, we'll be here waiting."

After disconnecting the call, Weldon turns his back on the group of officers and steps up to the fireplace. One by one, each page of the file falls into the flames. Weldon seems hypnotized by the fire, watching each piece of evidence fan to embers then crumble to ash, but he is thorough. After watching each paper burn, he adds the folder and envelope for good measure, then uses the poker to stir the ashes and ensure that no fragments remain.

Looking at Castle, Weldon seems surprised to see only a befuddled confusion rather than anger. "Why?" Castle scratches out, barely audible.

"What's that, Rick?" Weldon asks as he turns to face the writer, sitting on the hearth of the fireplace.

"Why are you Bracken's lapdog? He nearly ended you," Castle asks again, confused.

"He did end me," Weldon says, looking introspective. "You ended me. She ended me," he says, nodding to Beckett. "Rachel ended me. I had nothing left when he called – no friends, no donors, no wife, no way to hold on. I may not be governor, but I'm still the mayor. That's a strong foundation for an appointed position."

"What happened to Rachel?" Castle asks, increasing Beckett's concern that he's not tracking the conversation very well if this is where he focuses.

"She left me, Rick, months ago. You warned me about her temper, back when you introduced us, and you weren't wrong," Weldon says with a sad smile.

"Bob – why didn't you say anything?" Castle asks.

"I did, Rick, several times. During your zombie period last summer," Weldon says with some annoyance.

"It's never too late, Bob. You should reach out," Castle counsels. It's surreal, Beckett thinks, but she doesn't want to break the flow of the conversation. They're being held at gunpoint, someone bad is coming based on Weldon's conversation, and Castle is doling out relationship advice. Maybe he thinks he can turn Weldon, bring him back?

"I've … moved on," Weldon says, unable to stop a casual glance at Mazar.

"Does she belong to Bracken, too? Or Vantus? Or both?" Caste says, and this time he sounds annoyed.

"You were always too nosy for your own good, Rick," Weldon says somewhat defensively. Castle's shot must have hit a nerve. "You should have stayed away from this. She'd have never accepted you," he says with a nod at Beckett, "even if you slayed her dragon, and now you've lost everything."

"What are you talking about?" Castle asks his old friend, back to being confused.

"I _gave_ you a way out. Bracken wanted you dead, but I convinced him you just needed to be out of the picture, off to the side where he could keep an eye on you and you wouldn't be helping her. Without you around, _she'd _be back screaming at the heavens or haring into trouble without backup, as effective as a gnat and just as endearing," Weldon says while casting a look at Beckett, then rubbing his head in frustration. "Shit, Rick, there's even a beautiful woman there who's actually interested in you."

"So that's how it works? I'm supposed to ignore what's right, ignore the people who are important to me, because you tossed a plaything my way?" Castle says with disgust.

"Drop the naïve act, Rick, I'm not some star-struck groupie or political rookie. You made your deal and I made mine. Don't cry to me because you picked the wrong side," Weldon says snidely.

"_I_ picked the wrong side?" Castle says incredulously. "Bob, your boss murders mothers and wives in dark alleys, commissions snipers to attack high schools, frames idealistic champions of the disenfranchised for murder."

"You've done your homework, Rick, I'll give you that. But, as usual, you're too damned stupid to figure out what it really means, how the real world works," Weldon says with frustration. "You don't know the half of what Bracken's done, what he's capable of. What did you think would happen to you for poking into this?"

With a sigh, Weldon stands and starts to pace. "And now you've forced me into it. Rick, I need to know who else knows about this."

"What do you mean?" Castle asks, looking a little nervous.

"You're the author, how would you write this scene? What do you think happens when someone needs to control information? We need to know how far the cancer goes, Rick, so we know what to cut out," Weldon says quietly.

"Why would I tell you anything? You've already made it clear that we're all dead," Castle replies defiantly.

"Rick," Weldon says almost kindly, "don't do this. You're out of your league. We both know that there are different ways to go, some painless and some not."

Seeing no change in Castle, Weldon tries one more time. "Please, Rick, don't do this. I can't stop what has to happen next. If I don't have this wrapped up …," he falters, and Beckett's disgusted to realize that Weldon is afraid for himself, rather than his old friend.

When Castle refuses to relent, Weldon sighs heavily and whispers "I'm sorry, Rick." Then, just before turning his back, Weldon gives a hesitant nod to Mazar, who walks over to stand in front of Castle. After transferring her weapon to her left hand, her right hand reaches out and tears the makeshift bandage from Castle's shoulder. The blood-sodden towel thwaps on the ground next to Ryan, who is finally starting to stir.

Beckett's too busy looking at Ryan to notice Mazar's movements, so she barely has time to register what's happening when she looks up. Castle hasn't cried out, but tears stream down his cheeks from the pain of tearing the bandage free. Beckett's looking at the wound in his shoulder when Mazar delivers a blow directly on top of it. Castle goes white and the tears and blood flow again, but he remains silent.

His quiet defiance seems to both impress and infuriate Mazar. She steps back, then starts to walk around Castle's chair, circling to approach from his right. She adopts a sultry sway as she moves slowly but lithely, and Beckett can't figure out if she's trying to tease Castle, taunt Beckett, or if the violence excites her. As she reaches Castle's right side, she runs a hand up his arm, then slowly walks her fingers across his shoulder to his neck then up until she curls her hand and caresses the shell of his ear.

Bending to whisper something to him, Mazar transfers the gun to her right hand. Then the fingers of her left hand start walking from his neck down his left shoulder. With every move that brings them closer to Castle's wound, her smile grows wider, Castle grows whiter, and Beckett grows more tense.

Mazar pauses with her fingers directly above Castle's wound, drawing out the tension. She bends close to Castle's ear again, but instead of whispering to him, she gives his cheek a passionate kiss as she brings her hand down, her middle finger plunging into the channel carved by a bullet earlier in the day.

"No!" Beckett cries out while Gates releases a shuddering sob and Esposito releases a torrent of curses in English and Spanish. Mazar looks truly demented, rotating her hand to move her finger within the wound, and Castle's gone from white to ashen green. His eyes and nose are running copiously, the muscles in his neck and jaw look ready to snap as they're clenched tight and bulging, and a rivulet of blood runs from his shoulder. But he does not scream. Her beautiful, stubborn, defiant man doesn't release a sound, Beckett marvels.

"That's enough," Weldon says, calling attention to himself. He still hasn't looked back at Castle, Beckett realizes with contempt. This is what you chose, bastard, she thinks.

"Rick, you're not accomplishing anything. There are no moral victories here," Weldon cajoles as he slowly turns to look at Castle. "Say you hold out until you pass out. Say your friends do, too. Do you think Alexis could do the same?"

Her name hits Castle like a bucket of ice water. He had been drifting in the pain, trying to ride it out, but now he sits straighter and the focus returns to his eyes.

"She doesn't have to suffer, Rick. I can make sure that it's quiet, painless. Bracken wants you all dead, wants this all rooted out. But I have enough pull to make sure it's done kindly," Weldon offers.

"_Kindly_?" Castle grates out incredulously, his voice rough and scratchy from the jagged screams that he's swallowed. "She thinks of you as 'Uncle Bob' and you offer to kill her quietly as a _kindness_?"

"Rick, Alexis is a beautiful young lady, just blossoming into womanhood. I don't think you want to contemplate the other ways in which she could meet her end. The men that Bracken employs tend to be from a fairly rough crowd, often desperate for female companionship," Weldon says dispassionately, without even the good grace to look ashamed.

If this was intended to break Castle's spirit, it has the opposite effect. Despite his injury and the abuse he just received, he's out of chair and moving with shocking speed. His right hand connects with Weldon's jaw with a deafening crack, almost certainly breaking bone and teeth. As Weldon staggers back and tumbles, Beckett shifts her weight back and prepares to assist in Castle's offensive.

Any hopes of taking the control flee as quickly as they arrived when Mazar kicks the back of Castle's legs. He tumbles to his knees and Mazar claws his left shoulder, causing his whole body to go rigid.

The room is silent as Weldon struggles to get back on his feet, spitting tooth fragments and bloody mucous onto the floor of the cabin. He's halfway to his feet when he looks at Beckett and freezes, confused by her radiant smile.

She really shouldn't be smiling, she realizes, but she just can't help it. Their situation is so dire, and the pain and threats that Castle have faced are so terrible. But if they're going to die, she wants to take a piece of her captors with her. That's what Castle did – ignored his pain, the threats, and the odds to spit into the oncoming storm. Let's see you smile pretty for the cameras now, Mr. Mayor, Beckett thinks savagely.

Shaking his head and climbing back to his feet, Weldon dusts himself off prissily, as if straightening his clothes will distract anyone from the rapid swelling of his jaw.

"Last chance, Rick," Weldon growls, though some of the menace is lessened by the mumbling that results from his injury. "Who knows about Bracken?"

Castle glares back defiantly, first at Weldon, then craning his neck to look at Mazar. Improbably, she releases his shoulder and takes a step back. Still kneeling, Castle draws himself as tall as he can while on his knees. Shoulders squared and back straight, Castle stares into the eyes of his old friend. "I only have one thing to say to you, Bob." Looking away, Castle lets his gaze wander over Ryan, Esposito, and Gates until it finally lands on Beckett. He pauses for a moment, gives her a tired wink, then takes a deep breath and looks back at Weldon. "Apples."

Weldon isn't the only one looking confused about that incongruous word when all hell breaks loose. Beckett hears breaking glass and barely recognizes the cylindrical shape that lands in front of her before Castle flops over her, knocking her to the ground and covering her with his body. Then there's an explosion of sound, flashes of light, and white, fuzzy nothingness.

* * *

**Castle cabin near Hillsdale, New York, Monday ~ 7:30 PM**

"Welcome back," Beckett hears as she opens her eyes and blinks confusedly at the tree branches and darkening sky overhead. "Jordan?" she mumbles.

"Good to see you again," Jordan Shaw chuckles, "though we always seem to meet under unfortunate circumstances."

"Castle. Where is he? Is he okay? What about Weldon?" Beckett rattles out, still a little disoriented following the events in the cabin.

"Everything's fine," Shaw assures with a gentle hand to her shoulder, "though your great lummox of a partner seems to have a thing for knocking women to the ground to shield them from explosions," she says with a smile. "He's getting stitched up. We have a surgical tent in the barn over there," Shaw says with an inclination of her head. "It's been ready and waiting since this afternoon, but your partner wasn't supposed to sustain any more damage before he went in again."

"This was all a set-up?" Beckett croaks out, moving to sit up. Looking down, she sees that she's on a gurney again, the second time in four days.

"It was a hastily improvised Phase I, cobbled together by your writer when everything went sideways this morning. Phase II will start as soon as he's clear, and I'm hoping he'll tell me what he's got planned for after that," Shaw says with a raised brow. "We'll debrief as soon as everyone's been checked out. Until then, no attempts at outside communication – I've got your phones."

"Oh!" Beckett says, prompted by the talk of phones. "Someone's coming – probably someone who was going to stage the scene for our murders."

Squeezing gently on her shoulder, Shaw urges Beckett to relax. "Don't worry, we're on top of it. We actually trapped both sides of that call. We know what time he's supposed to get here and the car he's driving. We'll pick him up in about," she pauses to look at her watch, "25 minutes. Now, as soon as you get checked out, meet us at the van next to the barn."

As Jordan walks off, an EMT approaches and Beckett submits to his examination while her mind wanders. Castle was surprised this morning when trying to switch cars, presumably because someone cracked one of his IDs. He must have called Jordan immediately for her to have assembled a team and come out from Chicago. Beckett's starting to get upset about being kept out of the loop, but then she makes the connection: every time she spoke with Castle after he was nearly caught, Gates was present. And the mayor. Castle must have suspected a betrayal, so his 'stock' reference must have been as much as he felt like he could say.

Hearing a gasp from the EMT, she barely reacts. "Those are from Friday, nothing to worry about," she says blithely, then tries to return to her thoughts. This attempt is foiled, however, when she hears a throat clearing from her other side. Turning, she's eye to eye with Captain Gates.

"Detective," Gates says, "I wanted to say… hell, I don't know what I wanted to say. Thank you, damn you, wonderful job, you're fired … I just don't know," Gates confesses, looking a little out of control for this first time Beckett can remember or imagine.

Taking a deep breath, Gates starts again. "Detective, I'm hurt and disappointed that you didn't confide in me or bring this investigation to my attention." Beckett knows that she should feel some emotion – anger, shame, something – but she's just too numb after the events of the last few days.

"But, I also understand why you didn't," Gates continues. "My actions and motives must have looked suspect, especially after the Cartwright press conference."

"Did Weldon also ask you to suspend Castle?" Beckett asks, her curiosity refusing to remain in check.

For a moment, it looks as if Gates isn't going to answer. Then, with a sigh, she lowers her head. "Not directly. But, he made it clear that the less time Mr. Castle spent in the precinct for a while, the happier he'd be. I knew he'd be pleased with the suspension," Gates concludes with a tone of self-loathing.

"You're all clear, ma'am," the EMT cuts in to address Beckett. "Just keep doing what you were supposed to do for your existing injuries and try to relax for the next day. Your sinuses might trouble you, and bright lights might be conducive to headaches for the next 12 hours, but either can be addressed with over-the-counter remedies."

Sitting up and turning on the gurney to let her feet dangle, Beckett feels a momentary dizziness that passes quickly. Lowering her feet carefully to the ground, each small step makes her feel a little better. As Gates walks around the gurney to join her, they head over to the van beside the property's small barn. Knowing that Castle's inside, it's difficult to keep her eyes off door of the structure as they approach.

"Over here," Beckett hears Esposito call, directing them to a gurney on which Ryan still lies.

"Just giving honeymilk here a hard time about being such a follower, since he was the last of the team to get cracked on the head. Castle got dinged out in California, then me and Beckett up on the roof. You just feeling left out, bro?" Esposito says as he gently chucks Ryan on the shoulder, prompting a lopsided grin from his partner.

"So the entirety of my best team, including its mascot, is lined up for desk duty, it seems," Gates laments. "Maybe that will keep you out of trouble."

"I don't know about that," Jordan Shaw interjects as she strides over to join the group.

"We've got a lot of work to do in the next few days, much of which can be done from a desk," Shaw smiles sweetly, anticipating the groans that her comment provokes. "Castle should be out in about ten minutes, so we should use the time to get caught up. I'll tell you what I know, then he can fill in the blanks."

Looking around and seeing no dissent, Shaw begins the tale. "Castle was hit when he tried to evade capture this morning in Port Chester, New York. He's lucky that the bullet that caught his shoulder was a deflection. The wound wasn't as serious as it would otherwise be, and he wasn't as hurt as he might have let on, at least at first. Another bullet literally blew away the phone that he was holding to his ear." This news knocks the wind from Beckett's lungs, just imagining how close that bullet came to his head.

"Knowing that it would be difficult to approach the city and especially the precinct, Castle headed to Stamford and switched cars. Once he had a new vehicle, he made two stops in Stamford," Shaw continues. "At the first he purchased medical supplies and a new phone. Then he had physical and electronic duplicates made of the file that he had obtained. He has not told me so, but I'd be disappointed if he didn't make a third stop to mail at least one of those copies somewhere safe."

The file! In the face of Castle's torture and the following events, Beckett had completely forgotten about the file after watching it go up in flames. But there are copies! Beckett's not sure if she should kick his ass or kiss it for stopping to make copies while bleeding from a gunshot wound. Maybe both, she thinks, still thankful beyond measure that he'll be there to receive her attentions.

"What's in the file?" Beckett interrupts, eager to know if this was worth all of the hunting and pain.

"I don't know," Shaw says with a bit of pique. "Your partner in there insisted that you get the first look. I don't know where he stashed any other copies, and I haven't looked," she says with a knowing glance at Beckett.

After allowing a moment for that to sink in, Shaw resumes her story. "He called me with the new phone, asked for help using a system he suggested after our California case. We got moving and he started driving. He arrived at his cabin about the same time we landed in Albany. We arrived here an hour later – around 3:00 – and the agent I sent to collect a doctor and supplies arrived around 3:30. Castle had surgery around 4:00 to remove the bullet while we wired the cabin for sound and video."

"You've got it all on tape?" Gates asks in surprise.

"We've got it all," Shaw says with a nod. "Even the phone call he made to Bracken's chief of staff. He'll be joining the mayor and Mazar as a facilitating accessory to several felonies, at least," she says with grim satisfaction.

"So, Castle's whole performance was to draw out Weldon's confession?" Esposito asks. "Man, he must have been stoned out of his mind to deal with the abuse he took in there."

"No," Shaw says sadly. "No drugs – he was insistent on that, didn't think he'd have the wits to pull it off if he wasn't thinking clearly. Ibuprofen and caffeine, that's all he had. Though I suspect they're pumping some of the good stuff into him now."

"Not yet," a rough voice calls out from the barn door, now ajar. With the EMT holding onto his free arm, Castle slowly and carefully makes his way over to the group. When they arrive, the EMT opens the side door of the van so that Castle can sit while the briefing continues. But before Castle can take a seat, Beckett steps in front of him and wraps him in a hug, careful of his left shoulder and the sling that supports his left arm. Resting her head in the crook of his neck, Beckett ignores everyone for just a few moments, soaking in the calm, solid presence of her partner. From his long sigh, it sound like Castle needs the chance to recharge, too.

After a few minutes, Castle pulls back and sits down, feet on the ground and bottom inside the van. Beckett follows and sits close against his right side. While Beckett and Castle were otherwise absorbed, the rest of the team shifted to create a rough semicircle around the side of the van. The hug must have lasted a little longer than she realized, Beckett thinks, since she hadn't noticed them move Ryan's gurney or that he's now sitting up with his legs swinging while dangling off the side.

Before anyone can say anything, Shaw approaches Castle and hands him a phone. Castle nods and dials a number.

"Hi, Diane? This is Rick Castle. I really need to speak to Jordan but I can't track her down. Will you send out a message for me? Thanks, you're a lifesaver. Have her call me at this number," he says, rattling off a local phone number that Jordan's holding up for him. "That's the main desk, they'll connect her to my room. It's a bit of an emergency, so anything you can do to find her would really be appreciated. Great. Thanks again, Diane. Okay, I will. You, too. Bye now."

Disconnecting the call, he hands the phone back to Jordan. "That's phase two," Castle says, looking around at the group while Shaw nods. "Anyone monitoring the FBI message system now knows that I need to find Jordan and that I'm holed up at a hotel between here and the city."

"So you're fishing," Beckett notes. "Who's the bait?"

"Avery," Shaw answers. "He went to set that up after we got Castle settled here. We'll see if we can't catch some of my colleagues or their pets," she says with a predatory gleam in her eye.

"Are we taking bets on whether Wilson or Britton show up?" Esposito asks.

"I don't know, Detective," Shaw replies with a smile, "from what I've heard about your bets, I'm not sure that it's wise to encourage you." This prompts a look of betrayal from Esposito to Castle and smirks from Beckett and, surprisingly, Gates.

"What I'd like to know," Ryan enters the conversation for the first time, "is when you figured out it was Weldon. Or did you even know?"

Castle takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts before starting. "I figured that with the file in play, someone would come looking, so I called Jordan and asked for her help to set a trap. I'd started to doubt Bob just two days ago," Castle confesses, "and then his decision to join you seemed to confirm my suspicions."

"What was it about Saturday that made you wonder?" Beckett asks, thinking back to the hospital and their busted trip to the first Smith candidate.

"You did," Castle says to Beckett, prompting her look of surprise. Turning to Esposito and Ryan, he brings them into the story, too. "You all remember that night at the Haunt, after I was suspended?" The detectives nod and Beckett is happier than she should be when she notices Gates' slight blush. "And then the night at the law firm. I was so sure of myself, my _deductions_,but it turns out that I was wrong about pretty much everything. I thought I knew why Smith made the deal; I thought I understood Roy's motivations; I thought I could control Dani."

"But I'm a writer. Despite everything else, I'm a writer first," Castle says. "And it was talking about my book that made it all click. I thought Gina underestimated me when it turns out she was actually encouraging me to write a novel. You told me that," Castle says, reaching out for and clasping Beckett's hand. "I've been turning that over and over in my mind, and it made me realize that I've been making things too complicated."

"Occam's razor?" Beckett asks, with a grin.

"_Exactly_. That's it _exactly_," Castle says, obviously pleased that they're on the same page. "Think back to that night at the law firm where I laid this all out – remember how many assumptions I made about Bob? That he must be pushing me to the FBI but didn't want to tell me. That he must not know that Wilson might be involved. That he must assume that whoever tried to frame him was beyond NYPD reach. And then later – that he must have called to check in with me randomly, when instead he was calling to discourage me from returning to the precinct." Caught unaware, this last comment is of obvious interest to Gates.

"If Gina writes a contract that leaves me free to write a novel, the simplest explanation is that she wants me to write a novel. If Bob encourages me to work with someone dirty, the simplest explanation is that he's dirty, too," Castle says sadly.

"Hey, Castle, don't be too hard on yourself," Esposito says. "It's not like we saw it either, and we've been working on this, too."

"Yeah, but how many of your friends have we arrested, 'Sito?" Castle replies with a sad smile.

"Good thing you know so many guys," Beckett teases as she bumps into his shoulder, then winces as her own soreness reminds her that Castle's in no shape to be jostled right now.

"Why?" Castle says as he tries to mask his discomfort. "You figure my friends and associates will keep you in business?"

"No, Castle," Beckett says indulgently but with a look of apology, "so that you'll always have friends."

"So, what's next?" Shaw interjects. "You look like you have something in mind, and you mentioned tomorrow night. What are you thinking?"

Looking around the group of people, Castle makes eye contact with each in turn. Beckett thinks that he's assessing each one of them, wondering if they're all ready to move forward.

"Bracken's giving an interview tomorrow night," Castle begins. "It'll be covered live by local media. It's a fluff piece – he's positioning himself for greater things, but it's too early for any candidacy announcements. I suggest that we use the interview as an opportunity to rattle his cage."

"You want to distract him, make him focus his efforts on defense rather than offense," Beckett surmises, and Castle nods.

"We've got enough to scare him now – we've got Weldon and Mazar, plus the spotter from Friday. Even if they don't say a word, Bracken will be worrying about them. And the file, of course," Castle starts.

"We've got Bracken's chief of staff, too," Shaw chimes in. "That phone call alone gives us enough to take him in. And we should be picking up his fixer any moment now. Plus, anyone Avery nabs."

"Good, but don't make any public arrests yet," Castle says. "We need three things for this to work. But if we can shake him tomorrow night, or at least make it obvious that there are skeletons in his closet, maybe we can cut off his support. We've all seen it before – the politician who's the next great hope until he isn't, until he says something stupid or some sordid detail from his past comes out, then he can't even rent a friend or find a baby to kiss."

"What three things do you need?" Shaw asks.

"First, we all need to stay gone until the interview tomorrow. If Bracken sees us, he'll know that Weldon failed and he'll hunker down. If tonight is just a big mystery, he'll probably go forward with the interview," Castle guesses.

"I'm not sure that I agree, but I might be underestimating his ego," Shaw replies. "What's the second thing?"

"We need our loved ones safe and secure," Castle answers definitely. "We need a way to let them know that we're okay and that they need to hang tight for one more day."

"We've got something that will help there," Beckett says. "We set up a password – we can get Lanie or LT to take care of it if we can't do it ourselves."

"A password?" Castle says, his excitement shining through his fatigue and pain. "Beckett! That is so cool. You're amazing," he enthuses, prompting a slight blush from Beckett and teasing looks from the boys.

"I'll take care of it," Shaw offers. "What's number three?"

"Number three is a 'who,' not a 'what,'" Castle says cryptically. "We need Paula. Is there any way you could have someone 'disappear' my agent and get her to us? She'll be able to help us prepare for tomorrow's interview and win the cooperation of the hosts."

Nodding, Shaw agrees and calls someone over. "Castle, talk to Graham here about your agent and he'll take care of it. We've got a facility we can hole up in tonight, and we can get your agent there. Beckett, let's talk about your password."

"Actually, Jordan, there's one more thing I'd like," Castle says, seemingly embarrassed that his request prompted the attention of their full group rather than just Shaw.

"Sure, what's on your mind, Castle?" Shaw replies.

"I'd like to talk with Bob, off the record," Castle says, his voice curiously devoid of animosity or anger.

"Castle, I'm not sure that's a good idea," Shaw says, clearly discomfited by the idea. "I won't let you hit him again."

"I don't want to hit him," Castle confesses quietly. "I want to help him, or at least understand what happened to him. My friend …," Castle trails off to collect his thoughts. "My friend wouldn't do something like this. I want to know what happened to him, figure out if there's a way out for him."

While Shaw simply stares at Caste appraisingly, Beckett's caught in an emotional vice again. How can Castle, who just heard his old friend threaten his daughter, still harbor hope for redemption and reconciliation? Again she marvels at her partner, how someone can still show such faith despite the setbacks he's suffered.

"Okay, Castle. Okay," Shaw relents. "But I don't want you with him alone. Beckett goes, too."

"Of course she does," Castle replies as if this was the obvious thing in the world. "I wouldn't want to do this without her."

* * *

.

A/N: I thought I was exaggerating about working this past weekend, but I had no time for leisure writing. So, unless I'm really productive on Saturday, my usual Sunday update will be tardy. Apologies, but before you roast me, at least give me some credit – I thought about ending this chapter after Castle says "Apples," but thought better of it. That would have provided me with a buffer and led to some interesting comments!


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below

.

"_Okay, Castle. Okay," Shaw relents. "But I don't want you with him alone. Beckett goes, too."_

"_Of course she does," Castle replies as if this was the obvious thing in the world. "I wouldn't want to do this without her."_

_._

* * *

**Castle cabin near Hillsdale, New York, Monday ~ 8:30 PM**

"Rick, are you sure this is a good idea? You need to take some painkillers and get some rest," Beckett says, marveling that Castle's still on his feet after everything that's happened today, physically and emotionally. Their destination – an old picnic table with fading paint on warped planks behind the cabin – is in sight, but Castle seems to slow with every step. A naked lightbulb jutting from eaves of the cabin provides the only illumination as the sun has set and the lack of city lights allows for the full inky blackness of night.

"Almost done," Castle says quietly. "One conversation with Bob, then we'll go to Jordan's hidey-hole and get some rest."

As Beckett helps Castle maneuver onto the table's bench, she catches the sound of movement behind her as she sits to Castle's right. Turning her head, she sees two of Shaw's agents escorting a cuffed Weldon to the table. His shuffling gait reveals that the feds are taking no chances, having secured his ankles as well as his wrists.

Weldon takes his place across from Castle, swiveling awkwardly due to his restraints. At Castle's nods, the agents escorting Weldon back off about 25 yards, out of earshot and lost to sight in the darkness but close enough to react quickly if necessary.

After simply staring at each other for several minutes, it's Weldon who breaks the silence. "I guess the inside of the cabin was wired?" he says tiredly, words slurred due to his injured jaw.

Nodding, Castle confirms the mayor's conclusion. "Not out here, though."

"It'll never stand up in court," Weldon says, but he's not even trying to argue. It's as if he's just reciting the words that are expected of him, a defeated man looking at the horizon and seeing no hope.

"Maybe, maybe not," Castle says with equal calm. "We both know that it doesn't really matter." There's no fight or flinch from Weldon, just a pursed-mouth nod accepting Castle's words.

"I thought maybe we could talk out here without the cloud of Bracken or the feds hanging over us," Castle offers. "Just Rick and Bob, trying to figure out what the hell happened to us and how we'll get out of it."

Weldon casts Beckett an obvious glance as if to point out that she's not part of 'just Rick and Bob,' but instead he says "There's no getting out, Rick. I was a fool not to recognize that from the start, but he's a pro. He made sure that I was compromised from the beginning so that I couldn't back out, and it only got worse from there. It's how he works. And I'm not the only one."

"Bob," Castle says seriously, "I'm not here to pump you for information. I'm here to help my friend."

Sighing, Weldon moves as if to rub his head, then collapses in on himself slightly as the manacles on his wrists remind him yet again of his situation. "I wish you would have offered back when all this started, before I fucked up," he says, his voice still empty of passion.

"I'm sorry about that, Bob. I was facing my own problems and let them get on top of me. I shouldn't have cut out my friends and family, should have reached out to you, too." Though he's talking about himself, his words easily describe her own situation, Beckett realizes, returning yet again to that desperate summer when she was healing and others were obviously addressing their own troubles, some related to her. Risking the chance that it will change the dynamic of the conversation, Beckett reaches out to clasp Castle's right hand on the tabletop.

The motion and the gesture capture Weldon's attention, and he seems lost in thought as he stares at their linked hands.

"I guess I was off with some of my remarks in the cabin," Weldon finally says.

"Not just in this respect," Castle says. While Beckett's trying to stay out of this conversation, she can't stop the nod that shows her agreement with Castle.

"I … there's no excuse for what I've done, what I said," Weldon says quietly. Beckett doesn't react to this beyond giving Castle's hand a gentle squeeze. She'd use Morse code for the pulses to his hand to say 'sorry your friend is a remorseful, homicide- and sexual-torture-threatening jackass,' but he might actually decipher her comment.

Nodding, Castle chastises his friend. "I'm sorry that we find ourselves here, and I still want to figure a way out. But I'm not sorry for your jaw or dental work – you more than earned that."

"I'm really sorry about that, Rick. God, I can't believe those words came out of my mouth," Weldon says while looking down and shaking his head. "I was scared and casting about for anything I thought might work. I even thought about threatening your partner," he confesses, voice low.

"And you would have received the same witty rejoinder," Castle replies fiercely, pulling Beckett's hand a little closer to him.

Nodding, Weldon lapses back into silence briefly. Then, raising his head and showing the first spark of engagement that Beckett's detected, he looks at Castle and says "I guess this makes us even," lifting his cuffed hands to allow an index finger to gently touch his swollen cheek.

"Not even," Castle scoffs. "I owed you before today, and I still owe you."

"I think that setting me up with the woman who left me should count at least as much as a sock to the jaw," Weldon replies.

"You're such a pansy," Castle answers. "It's happened to me twice and you don't hear me whining about it."

The verbal sparring had started to put the ghost of a smile on Weldon's face, but the moment his reality comes back to mind is obvious as his demeanor falls along with his shoulders.

"What am I going to do, Rick?" Weldon whispers disconsolately.

"Here's what you're going to do," Castle replies in a low, confident voice. "You're going to go and prize whatever sleep you can steal from this dark night. You're going to keep your mouth shut. And, you're going to think." Castle pauses a moment before continuing to let his point sink in.

"I'm not going to push you to help us," Castle continues. "I think we have enough to take him down, so if you're worried about jeopardizing yourself or Rachel, you can hunker down. If you want to talk, we'll make sure you've got a good attorney and protection."

"You don't have enough, Rick, you'll never have enough," Weldon says sadly. "Men like him can't be stopped."

"Have some faith in me," Castle cajoles. "I've learned some things, like not using the original documents in a sting operation."

"Those weren't copies," Weldon interjects. "I checked."

"You'd be surprised what you can accomplish with a good color photocopier and an undergrad looking at a thousand-dollar cash tip," Castle gloats. "Plus, Bracken's playing on turf where I know some things. I like our odds," Castle concludes with confidence.

"Maybe you do," Weldon says quietly, but his voice has returned to a hopeless monotone. "He was worried about you, you know. You have too many friends and too much money. And you fell in love with the one person he couldn't turn. Just …," Weldon trails off. "Just keep your family safe until this is done, and even then be careful."

"Is he …," Castle starts, looking concerned. "Was he behind you and Rachel? Does it go back that far?"

Weldon goes still and stares at his lap for several long moments before he looks up and says "I never thought so. I deserved what happened there. But knowing him, it's possible that he had a hand in it. God, what hasn't he tainted?"

"Bob, you and I have known each other for a long time. I know who you are, behind the smiles and handshakes and compromise votes. He can't have tainted that," Castle says with quiet confidence. "We just need to shake you free of his grasp."

"Rick," Weldon mumbles, "once upon a time I would have believed that. But I know who I am now. You know, I actually thought I could change things from the inside? God, what an arrogant jackass I was. I mean, how many naïve staffers joined my team thinking the same damned thing? I indulged them all knowing they couldn't change the lightbulb, much less the system."

"And he let me think I could do it," Weldon continues, voice finally showing some dark emotion. "Our first confrontation – our first face-to-face – included me going to bat for you. I was still pissed about the murder investigation, but I felt … _virtuous_, I guess, doing what I could to move you out of harm's way."

Beckett sneaks a glance at Castle, seeing in his shadowed profile an intense look as he watches his old friend try to explain how they all ended up here.

"_Virtuous_," Weldon scoffs at himself. "Well, we saw how long that lasted. When you didn't fall in line at the Bureau, it came back on me. You were my problem. When he figured out that someone was digging for the file again, Bracken made it clear that it was you or me. That's how long my virtue lasted – I'm the guy that will sacrifice a friend _and_ his family _and_ his colleagues to save a corrupted life of indentured servitude."

Beckett watches as this last comment, a reference to slavery made by a minority politician who's been dominated by a privileged white man, seems to cause Weldon to collapse from within.

"Sorry, Bob, but shut the hell up and stop feeling sorry for yourself," Castle replies, obviously turning to a more abrasive approach in an effort to get at Weldon. "You made a series of bad turns and believe me, brother, you're in a bad neighborhood. So don't stop to feel sorry for yourself. You might have to push the damn car, invest some serious effort, but we'll get you out and back where you belong."

Castle pauses to look across the table at Weldon and frowns when he realizes that he's not making any inroads.

"You're really going to let him beat you?" Castle asks. "You're thinking about throwing in the towel?"

"Rick, I've got nothing left," Weldon replies.

"Then what do you have to lose?" Castle asks, truly bewildered.

The pair goes silent again, Castle staring across the table and Weldon, who is staring at his shackled hands in his lap. Beckett startles when Weldon begins to awkwardly rise from his seat.

"Rick …," he says as he stands and watches the FBI agents approach. "Thank you," he says quietly. "Thank you for being my friend." Then, before Castle can rise from the table, Weldon turns and starts shuffling towards the agents to hasten his return to wherever they're holding him.

"Rick," Weldon calls from the edge of the light, an agent holding onto each arm. "Scott Riley. Tran Nyguen. Vulcan Simmons. I don't know details, but that's where his money comes from." Weldon turns without another word and walks into the darkness.

Castle remains quiet as he and Beckett watch Weldon until he's lost to sight. Beckett spins in place and moves her feet to straddle the bench on which they're sitting, scooting closer to Castle. Looking at his face in the flickering light of the cabin's lone bulb, her heart cracks a little at Castle's forlorn look. He was hoping so desperately to reach his friend, to light some ember within him, but he's obviously convinced that he failed.

"C'mere Castle," Beckett whispers, pulling his right leg over so that he straddles the bench, too, when he moves to follow her motion. Then they both lean forward, each resting a head on the right shoulder of the other. It's an odd embrace, Beckett thinks as she wonders if she's ever done this before. But it's intimate, draws them together, and mingles their breath as they lean into each other.

"He was a good man," Castle whispers. "The list of things for which Bracken will answer just keeps getting longer."

"Shhh," Beckett susurrates in response while guiding her hand to run her fingers over the nape of his neck. "Let's just take some time to remember your friend in better times," she offers, trying to cheer him.

After a few minutes during which the only sound is the movement of Beckett's hand as she traces patterns on his neck and through his hair, she leans back and says "Let's go, Castle, you need to steal some rest from this dark night, too."

As they round the corner of the cabin, they see Shaw walking toward them. Apparently, they were moments from being recalled had they not shown up on their own. Shaw points them to a waiting SUV, and Beckett finds herself hoping that one of her colleagues took care of moving the vehicle that they'd borrowed from Castle's car service.

Before approaching the vehicle, Castle breaks off to walk slowly to the dry well. Meaning to kneel down, his movement is more of a controlled collapse and for a brief moment Beckett's terrified that he's going to tumble in. Instead, once stabilized, Castle reaches into the well and stretches in a way that must be causing him pain. After a moment, his hand comes back into view, clasping a plastic-wrapped file folder.

Castle gives Beckett a weary smile as he approaches and halts directly in front of her. Then, with some pomp, he bows as he extends the package to her. "Another advance copy for you. It's no Alexander Rodgers, but it'll probably still prove to be an interesting read."

"Thank you," Beckett says sincerely as she stares at Castle, unable even to turn to the file before he knows how much she appreciates what has led them to this point.

The moment is broken when the SUV's engine roars to live, a not-so-subtle hint to get moving. As they turn to the SUV, Castle mumbles "I think I'm ready for the painkillers now."

Shaw holds the door open for them as they climb into the back of the SUV, where Gates already sits. As they get belted in, the vehicle starts to move. "We've got a place where we can spend the night," Shaw explains. "It'll take about a half-hour to get there, and your medication is ready and waiting, along with your bag from your rental car. By morning, we'll have Ms. Haas in attendance and we'll know if Avery caught anyone."

After nodding tiredly, Castle leans his head back on the headrest and closes his eyes, but he keeps talking. "What about the fixer – did you get him?"

"No," Shaw says, causing Castle's eyes to fly open as his head comes forward. Before he can say a word, Shaw explains. "He was a professional – as soon as he realized that we had him cut off, he took himself out. He must've been a pretty cold guy to drive around sitting in a car rigged to blow, but it went up in a flash and burned hot. We'll see what we can find, but I don't expect to recover anything."

"Do you think he called it in before he pushed the button?" Beckett asks, wondering if their plan for tomorrow is blown.

"The honest answer is that we don't know," Shaw confesses. "I'm told that it went down quickly, so we can hope, but we won't know. Our only advantage is that we'd commandeered vehicles from the local sheriff to mask the federal move, so if he did call it in, Bracken might assume that his fixer ran afoul of local yokels."

"So we expect to go forward with Mr. Castle's plan for the interview?" Gates asks.

"That's the plan," Shaw confirms. Turning to Castle, she asks "So, what's your take on Weldon?"

Sighing and placing his head back against the headrest again, Castle closes his eyes as he answers. "Fifty-fifty," he says, and Shaw nods. "You won't let him do it, right? You'll have him on suicide watch tonight?"

"My team will keep a careful eye on him and Ms. Mazar. I'm sorry, Rick," Shaw answers in a gentle voice.

"I'm still hopeful," Castle replies. "But, my estimate is based just on his demeanor. He'd make a good witness, so when this thing breaks there'll be others trying to take him out. It doesn't look good for him – maybe more like twenty-eighty he'll be alive two weeks from now," Castle says with a heavy sigh.

"We'll see," Shaw replies cryptically.

"Mr. Castle, I don't mean to be rude, but I don't understand your concern," Gates says with obvious confusion. "Everything that's happened to you in the past several months can be laid at his feet. For God's sake, he was this far from killing us all and then following up with your family! I don't understand why you aren't celebrating!"

An hour ago, Beckett might have agreed with Gates. But there was something about the conversation between Castle and Weldon that's stayed with her, a sense of structured tragedy. They're like two brothers, she thinks, who wound up fighting for different sides in the Civil War. Divided by belief but connected by love, forced against each other by the maneuverings of others.

Castle's long sigh recaptures her attention. "You know how I always 'know a guy'?" Castle asks quietly. "I know people from all over the world, all walks of life, a variety of ages and races. They are people I've met during research, book tours, at the bar, or just by luck. I'm friendly with all of them," Castle says quietly, "but not many are true friends. If you'd asked me to name the most important people to me not in my family or at the precinct, he'd top the list."

Castle's clearly exhausted, or beyond trying to mask the raw emotion in his voice. Beckett's not even trying to hide her concern for him in the presence of her Captain, instead staring at him so that if he opens his eyes, he'll see her sorrow and support.

"But it's more than that," Castle says as he blinks and turns to look over the seat to Gates. "Every uncharitable thought you've had about me, every concern you've had about my behavior or personality – every one of those was spot on four years ago. Then I met an extraordinary person who changed my life, who just through the beauty of her existence laid bare how insubstantial I might become. Since then, I've worked to become a better person, a better father, a better partner. I'm proud of who I am now. And that's thanks largely to Kate," Castle says while reaching out for Beckett's hand, which she happily accepts directly in front of Gates, "but Bob opened the door, let me into the precinct. Twice."

"I know that he jeopardized the rest of you, and you should hate him for it," Castle admits. "But I'm here because Bob was a good man, a good friend, when I wasn't. How could I not try to be the same for him?"

* * *

**Rural Farmhouse, Attlebury, New York, Tuesday ~7:30 AM**

As the unfamiliar ceiling slowly comes into focus, Beckett can't stifle a low groan that marks the start of the day. She's still sore from 'the Battle of Marlowe Prep' (as Castle has threatened to immortalize it) and yesterday's stress had her running on empty. Still, as soon as she's up and limber, she knows that last night's sleep will serve her well.

Turning to look at Castle, she engages in a short internal debate. 'Letting him get some more well-earned rest' narrowly defeats 'caress his cheek until he wakes and gives me that sleepy, only-for-me smile,' to her mild annoyance. Maybe she'll compromise – let him sleep a little longer but wake him with coffee.

Climbing carefully and slowly from their bed so as not wake him early, Beckett checks to ensure that there's no tell-tale sign of the file that she read last night. Granted, under the mattress is hardly a novel hiding place, but it has the advantage of requiring her to physically move to provide access. Once Castle wakes, they'll talk about the file and not let it out of their sight.

Donning her clothes and slipping out, the door across the hall opens as she exits her room and she's immediately concerned about keeping the noise to a minimum. Catching Gates' glance, Beckett puts a finger to her lips while nodding back at her door. If Gates had any doubts about them after last night's hand-holding in the car, the sleeping arrangements certainly clarified the situation.

Falling into step together, the two women head down the stairs and to the kitchen of the rural farmhouse. Both had been concerned that this was an FBI safe-house, which wouldn't be terribly safe given Shaw's corrupted colleagues. But it turns out that, like Castle, Shaw 'knows some guys,' including someone in commercial real estate who had a vacant and remote agricultural listing.

Wandering into the kitchen, the women see a simple breakfast spread that someone must have retrieved from a supermarket: bagels, pre-packaged fruit cups, yogurt, cream cheese, bread, cold cuts, fruit juice, and bad coffee. It might not be fancy, but after yesterday's turmoil, it tastes divine. Taking small plates of food, they walk past some of the FBI agents at the table and out onto a screened-in porch.

"I'm trying to decide how to feel about the personal relationship that's obviously developed between you and Mr. Castle," Gates says, starting the morning off with a bang. As she did the last time she had a conversation like this with Gates, Beckett opts to remain quiet and see where the conversation goes.

"If he was a member of the Department, we'd be talking about a transfer for at least one of you," Gates says while casting Beckett a pointed look. Gates is initially surprised by Beckett's unworried look in return, then grows pensive.

"You've already thought about this, haven't you?" Gates asks, receiving only a casual nod from Beckett in return. Looking completely at ease, Beckett returns her attention to smoothing a thin layer of cream cheese on her bagel. "I take your lack of concern to mean that you are not worried about being split up," Gates assess. "Why not?"

"It wouldn't be a smart thing to do," Beckett says simply. "You heard Castle last night – this is hardly a new development. Has it affected our performance?" Beckett asks rhetorically. "Besides, I know about the benefits he brings to the Precinct," Beckett says, thinking back to Castle's assertions at the conclusion of the Cartwright case, "the contributions to our closure rate that he provides without cost to the Department, the benefits of the attention he brings to the 12th."

"But more than that," Beckett continues, "there's no doubting that he's an asset. I know that you see it, too – otherwise this joint task force idea never would have happened, regardless of the reason for the FBI's initial interest in him."

"He may have disproven some of my reservations about him," Gates agrees. "But it's still not a good idea to have involved partners in the field together."

"We both know that's not true," Beckett challenges. "If it was, regular police partnerships would have to be broken up – those are tighter bonds than many marriages. I'm surprised that married officers haven't challenged the NYPD policy, and I don't doubt that they'd win if they did. As for relationships between an officer and a consultant, there is precedent there," Beckett concludes confidently.

"Really?" Gates asks, genuinely surprised. "It sounds like you've done your homework."

"Not me, sir," Beckett admits. "My partner has proven to be surprisingly organized on this front."

"Why am I not surprised?" Gates asks with a tone of indulgent exasperation.

"Sir, this is something that I'm willing to fight for, but I'm hoping that I won't have to," Beckett says earnestly. "Why don't we see how this goes, take some time for you to observe my team with this knowledge before we take any next steps?"

"I'll make no promises, Detective," Gates replies, "but that sounds reasonable, at least for now. A suggestion like that …," Gates begins, but trails off at hearing some commotion in the kitchen behind her.

"Okay, what the hell is going on? Hottie here picks me up this morning and tells me that the FBI needs my help, but now we're at some dirt farm. What is this, a cult or something? If so, _I'm_ going to be the leader," the abrasive tones of Paula Haas cut through the farmhouse.

Beckett's about to rise from her seat to intervene when Paula comes onto the porch, trailed by Shaw, Graham, and another agent.

Seeing Beckett, Paula sighs and comes to a halt. "Ah. I shoulda' known," Paula says as she pulls up a chair and sits at an angle. "If it isn't Shiva, Goddess destroyer of book tours, speaking engagements, and client availability," she says with a smile. This is one of the reasons that Paula makes Beckett uncomfortable – she's never sure if the smile that follows abrasive or offensive words is meant to show that they were said in jest or to show that Paula is happy while gutting you.

"If you're here, then Rick must be kicking around here somewhere, too." Craning her head to look around the farmhouse and the assembled personnel, Paula turns back to Beckett and says "Yeah, I can totally see how spending time like this increases his book sales. So, where's my boy?"

The room seems slightly stunned by the wall of personality that Paula carries with her. As Beckett casts a quick glance around the room, she notices that Paula's captured everyone's attention, and there're even three more people in the doorway – another agent, Ryan, and Esposito. Commanding attention is her job, Beckett thinks, so maybe she shouldn't be surprised that Paula is so effective at it.

"He's upstairs recovering," Beckett says quietly, as if her voice could wake him if all this racket hasn't already done so.

"Recovering? From a night with you? Not likely," Paula replies flatly but with an inquisitive look. "Unless you brought some friends?"

Beckett gets sprayed slightly by the orange juice that Gates accidentally spits out upon hearing Paula's comments. Jordan's eyebrows have risen so high that they're part of her hairline, and Graham looks scandalized. Esposito, who'd cut through the crowd to be close to the action, earns a glare from Beckett for his chuckle.

"Ha!" Paula crows as she reaches over to steal the bagel off Beckett's plate. "Feds. Always so uptight," she says as she munches on the bagel. "But still cute," Paula adds as she gives Graham a predatory look.

"Paula, it's impolite to play with your food," Castle says from the doorway, "And I wasn't talking about the bagel." Using his good arm to pat Graham on the back as he walks into the room, Beckett sees that while his left arm is in a sling, he's using that hand to hold a plate. As he approaches, he uses his right hand to deliver the plate to her, already replacing the bagel that his agent stole. Beneath the plate is the file, which he was smart enough to not leave unattended.

"Ricky, you gorgeous bastard," Paula says as she stands quickly and embraces him. Though she aimed for an off-center hug to spare his left side, Beckett can see from his flinch that she wasn't entirely successful.

Stepping back, Paula gives him an assessing look. "I can make this look work, Ricky. The unshaven thing is _totally_ hot. Work the hair and get a looser shirt, or maybe just a tank top undershirt, and we can have women lined up around the block – or across the alfalfa field, I guess – to nurse the recovering rogue. Damn, boy, you've been working out," she says as she considers him from different angles.

Castle starts to speak until Paula steamrolls right over him. Beckett's probably not the only one who is glad to see that even Castle can't seem to control this woman.

"Not that you need it. Have you heard?" Paula asks as she plucks a coffee cup out of the hands of a still-stunned agent standing nearby, takes a swig, then grimaces and hands it back. "The _Turning _feedback has been _unbelievable_. We've _got_ to talk," she says as she catches his good elbow with the intention of dragging him out of the room. "There's a nasty fight about whose blurbs we'll use to sell the book. We've got incredible leverage."

"Paula, stop," Castle says calmly and, unbelievably, it works. "You're here to make some people famous, but not me." Paula looks confused for a moment, looking around the room again. It finally sinks in that she's in a hideout filled with law enforcement personnel, that she's been spirited away from New York City, and that her client who has typically downplayed his role as consultant has brought her into an operation.

"Ricky, what's going on?" she asks, looking to get a handle on the situation, or maybe an angle.

"We have evidence that a high-ranking official has been engaged for years as the head of a corrupt empire," Castle says, building his story. He's laying it on a little thick, Beckett thinks, but he probably knows better than anyone how to sell something to Paula.

"He's had people killed, used his influence to ruin inconvenient careers and bolster others. He portrays himself as a man of the people while raising money through racketeering, blackmail, and extortion," Castle says, almost seductively. And that's what this is, Beckett realizes, a seduction: he's inflaming Paula's desire for attention, information, and control. And he's doing it very well.

"Now, imagine that this person doesn't realize how much information we have. Imagine that he's smug and arrogant, the stereotype of someone who thinks he can get away with anything, because he can buy or threaten or kill his way out of any situation. Now, imagine that he's already committed to let local media interview him tonight for a live broadcast," Castle coos. Paula's eyes are dilated and she's taking short, panting breaths.

What a weird, disturbing situation, Beckett realizes. First, that someone could become so … aroused … about something like this. But also because Castle knew that this would be her reaction and seems to be able to channel it so effectively. Casting a quick look at the profiler, Beckett can tell that Shaw is having similar thoughts.

"Can you think of anyone who could help us plan a way to take him apart on-screen, in front of his adoring public? Can you think of anyone who could help us identify the people who would be able to ask the tough questions, who would launch their careers tonight, who would owe their success to whoever positioned them for this interview?" Castle concludes with an enchanting whisper.

Paula's eyes drift closed, and Beckett can only imagine the thoughts running through her head. Paula's wearing a small smile, and with her eyes closed she sways slightly in place. As Beckett's looking at her, Paula's eyes flash open and she looks focused. And annoyed.

"Why the hell are all you slackers just sitting around?" Paula asks the assembled crowd. "We've got work to do!"

* * *

**Rural Farmhouse, Attlebury, New York, Tuesday ~8:30 AM**

With Castle set up in the living room with Paula, starting to sketch out the broad outlines of the story and what they have in mind for tonight, Beckett gives Shaw a nod. They drift into the farmhouse's small study, a room that looks like it was converted from a pantry. As they begin to sit around the room's small desk, Gates enters with a chair she's brought from the kitchen. With an inquisitive look, she enters after receiving nods from both Beckett and Shaw.

"We need to go through the file," Beckett says, "for a couple reasons. We need to figure out what questions we're going to have Paula feed to the interviewers, we need to figure out who to watch, and we need to figure out when we're going to bring other into the investigation."

"We're in a little bit of a bind," Shaw says. "Just from the names the Weldon provided, we've got five people we need to watch, excluding Wilson, and this list could easily grow. If the Bureau is already compromised, I'm not sure how we could hope to staff a project of that scale without word leaking."

"Castle and I talked about this last night, until his drugs kicked in," Beckett picks up. "We were thinking that we should leave the money men out at first – Riley, Nyguen, and Simmons. One of the reasons to shake Bracken tonight is to threaten him, get his supporters to pull back for fear of going down with him."

"Detective Beckett, is that the same Simmons with whom you've had prior dealings?" Gates asks, much to Beckett's consternation.

"Yes, sir," Beckett confirms. "I suspect that might have been a contributing factor to Castle's support for leaving him to the side for now," she replies with a bit of annoyance. That Gates nods in agreement doesn't improve her mood.

"So, what's in this file?" Gates asks. "After all this trouble, it had better be good."

"There's a lot of stuff in there. Some files are of obvious value – correlations of Bracken's off-the book cases and the kidnappings, photographs of Bracken and the others involved in the scheme, notes – presumably in Bracken's handwriting – with times, names, and dates," Gates looks increasingly surprised that Bracken was foolish enough to take notes or let information like this out of his control.

"Then there're the pieces that will require more investigation. Banking records, wire transfer documentation, auditing documents. This stuff is probably pure gold, we just need some time to link them and figure out what we can do with them," Beckett concludes.

"If those are financial records," Shaw adds, "there could be a host of tax-related charges that we can add to the file against Bracken. Not only are those easier to prove, but they have some fierce sentencing guidelines. And if they link to others, the RICO charges are even nastier."

"Alright," Beckett says, tired of spending time on the summary. "Let's work through the documents and figure out what we can give Paula."

"Sounds good to me," Shaw agrees. "Lord knows I want to be prepared to deal with her when Castle turns her loose."

Just as they're about to set into the file, a knock from the doorway interrupts them. Turning and expecting to see Castle and Haas, they are surprised to instead see a beaten but jubilant Agent Avery. He's disheveled, looking like he tried to pull himself together hastily, and there's a bloody wrapping around his left thigh. But there's no mistaking his mood with that smile spread across his face.

"Good fishing trip, then?" Beckett asks and Avery's nodding before she finishes talking.

"We bagged three," Avery says as he approaches and shakes the hands of those in the room. "Including our dear colleague Agent Wilson. He hung back while two others rushed the room," Avery explains. "No IDs, but the other two look like they might fit in at Vantus. We're holding off on running prints until after tonight, in case doing so trips any alarms."

"Good thinking," praises Shaw, clearly very happy with this turn of events. "Everyone okay?" she asks while giving his thigh an obvious look.

"Freaking Castle," Avery grumbles, noting that he's now three-for-three on leg injuries for cases on which Castle is involved. "One of the guys that busted into the room was pretty good with a knife," Avery explains, "at least he was until he got tased. No worries, it's shallow, just a few stitches."

"Was anyone else injured?" Shaw asks, worried but also relieved that Avery's injuries weren't more serious.

"No," Avery responds, "but their driver got away. We didn't get a good look much less an ID, but she had a brown ponytail."

* * *

.

A/N: Hi all. I rushed to get this written to stay on schedule, so apologies for any typos. I appreciate that the action has ramped down from last chapter, but I've got to move the pieces into place, and I'm not sure the characters could withstand another day like yesterday (not with Paula storming around, certainly). RL looks to be more under control this week, so I'm looking forward to spending some time on the next chapter, which I hope to post on Wednesday. We're close to the end – three chapters, give or take, and maybe an epilogue.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: One unfortunate aspect of the plotting of this story is that we're now about to see a consummate politician in his element. Grab the maple syrup, there's some waffle ahead. More below.

.

* * *

**Tuesday ~ 8:00 PM**

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Anita Singh, host of _Access New York_. What a show we have planned for this evening! With us is New York's rising political star, US senator William Bracken. An Independent who has invigorated both sides of the political spectrum, Senator Bracken has defied conventional wisdom about what it takes to succeed in Washington, landing key committee assignments and voting his conscience without regard to party line. And the response of his constituency has been overwhelming: his approval rating continues to climb and, in an Access New York first, we've been warned by the fire marshal that we cannot admit any more spectators to our viewing audience!"

Waiting for the thunderous applause to subside, Anita Singh looks triumphant, basking in the reflected glow of Bracken's popularity.

"Let's meet the man of the hour, and maybe of the decade. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you US Senator William H. Bracken!"

In the new tumult of applause that follows, Bracken makes his way on stage with waves and smiles, looking like the consummate professional in a blue suit, red tie, and American flag pin. The only thing more dazzling than his smile is the twinkle in his eye as he surveys the assembled mass of registered voters in the studio audience, who must be a proxy for the group watching from the comfort of their own homes. After hugs and air kisses, Anita Singh guides him to a pair of comfortable chairs, where he waits until she is seated to sit down himself.

"I need to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that demand for tonight's discussion didn't come from just members of our studio audience. The media is also anxious to spend more time with Senator Bracken, so he graciously agreed to change the format of tonight's discussion. Rather than interview the Senator, I'll be the moderator tonight for a panel that includes three distinguished members of the press. Let me introduce them."

"First, joining us from the _New York Ledger_, is veteran journalist Karen Brown. As many of you watching this show already know, Karen has won two Pulitzer Prizes, most recently winning accolades for her investigative reporting on labor conditions in the garment district." As the audience applauds politely, Karen Brown walks on stage, shakes hands with Bracken and Singh, then makes her way to a table set up at stage right. Dressed in a business suit just as tailored as Bracken's, Brown commands the respect due to a veteran newswoman who has honed her craft for more than 20 years.

"Second, joining us from online news portal _NewYorkNewsNet_, is Mr. Tomas Sandoval. While he recently celebrated the second anniversary of his news organization, viewers may recall that Mr. Sandoval was the editor-in-chief of the _Los Angeles Times_ and Domestic Issue Advisor for _US News &amp; World Report_ before jumping into the digital arena." Sandoval emerges from the wings of the stage, his appearance accentuating his difference from the established media. Dressed all in black and wearing a leather jacket that must be oppressively hot in the studio, Sandoval's long hair and goatee seem out of place. Bracken and Singh rise to greet the second participant, though Bracken's welcome seems slightly forced.

"Finally, ladies and gentlemen, we have Mr. Bradley Hudson from the _Wall Street Journal_. While a relative newcomer to the esteemed financial newspaper, Mr. Hudson is credited with invigorating the _Journal's_ coverage of policy initiatives and regulatory developments, proving particularly adept at anticipating the effects that these issues will have on the readers of the _Journal_ … and their investments!" Singh stage-laughs at her trite joke as Hudson emerges from the wings, looking unimpressed with her attempt at humor though that might simply be his usual demeanor. Bookish looking in his horn-rimmed glasses, conservative suit, and school tie, Hudson looks like he probably fits right in at the _WSJ_.

"Here is how tonight will work," Singh announces once Hudson has taken his place at the table with the other two interviewers. "Each interviewer will ask a question, following the order in which they were introduced. Nominally, we'll limit follow-ups, but we're going to try to minimize the structure for tonight since we have such a wonderful collection of top-flight talent. Karen, would you like to kick things off?"

"Thank you, Anita. Senator Bracken, it's been said that committee assignments are the lifeblood of a political career. In the Armed Services and Veteran's Affairs committees, you've managed to land two of the most popular and powerful committees, all without the help of a party affiliation or apparatus behind you. How were you able to secure positions so important to the citizens of New York and how have those committee assignments affected your tenure in Washington?"

"Thank you, Karen," Bracken replies. "I'm afraid that I don't have a nice, pat answer for the first part of your question. When the good people of New York sent me to Washington, it was clear that they wanted someone there to protect their interests. You say that the committees are popular and powerful – I don't know about that. All I know is that New York risks many of its sons and daughters to our military operations around the world, and that New York cares about how those warriors are treated when they come back home. I'd like to think that my colleagues in Washington recognized the passion I have for this issue, having served myself, and that my committee assignments were a way to help us all show our military personnel how much we value their sacrifices. How has the affected my tenure? It's made me more resolute. This is something about which I care passionately and regarding which I will not compromise."

"Tomas," Singh calls out once the studio audience's applause has died down.

"Thank you, Anita," Sandoval replies. "In your work for those committees, Senator Bracken, you must come into contact with the private sector firms who assist our military forces and provide a link between military and political operations. In that context, what do you think about the measures that Senator Stark has proposed?"

"That's a great question, Tomas, and I appreciate the opportunity to clear up some misunderstandings that have arisen on this topic. You know, I admire Senator Stark. He's a noble man, a true statesman. And I look forward to the day when the need for America's military might isn't so pronounced so that we can explore some of his suggestions. But until that day, we need to remain strong. Following budget cutbacks from the so-called 'peace dividend,' our military readiness is not where it should be to ensure that America's interests are protected. Military contractors have stepped into that breach to help protect America and ensure our military preparedness. Given today's global conflicts and the variety of fronts on which our interests need to be defended, Senator Stark's efforts to enact stringent licensing requirements and operational limitations on military contractors undermines the system that's keeping our kids and our country safe. Until we improve the funding of our military or until there is actually a decline in global hostilities, we need our contractors to be free and able partners in the defense of our way of life."

"A follow-up, if I may, Anita," Sandoval requests. At her nod, he continues. "What about the allegations that military contractors are nothing but hired guns, modern-day mercenary forces with poor discipline and low morals?"

"That's exactly the kind of gibberish that results in dangerous laws," Bracken fires back immediately. "What some cavalierly call 'hired guns,' I call employment opportunities to the veterans who fought for this country. Why shouldn't our country benefit from the education, training, and opportunities that we provide to our defenders? I have yet to meet a single contractor who doesn't love this country, and I don't expect I ever will."

"Please, please," Anita Singh begs of the audience. "If we spend all of our time applauding, we'll not have any time remaining for questions! Bradley, your turn."

"Thank you, Anita. Senator, I'd like to follow up on Tomas' question. You say that you've yet to meet a contractor who doesn't love this country, but in the last week authorities have arrested two groups of military contractors in New York for domestic terrorism and attempted murder. How can you oppose what you call 'stringent requirements' on groups that are attempting to assassinate US residents?"

At this question, the studio audience grows noticeably quiet, knocked into their seats at the thought of home-grown terrorism in their city that's already been irrevocably scarred by a foreign terror campaign.

"I'm afraid that I'm unaware of the incidents to which you're referring, Bradley, but I strongly suspect that your information is incorrect. I can speak for the institution of our military and its allies, both abroad and at home. But the sad fact is that military service is a terrible burden, one that subjects even the best of us to unimaginable rigors and sometimes horrors. Those battles leave scars, and sometimes the people involved fall away from society, which is one of the reasons that I'm so passionate about my efforts with the VA committee, working toward a goal of ensuring that we don't lose any members of the flock."

"Well said, Senator," Singh praises. "Now, Karen, I believe…"

"A follow-up, please, Anita?" Hudson asks but then continues to speak without waiting for a response. "Senator, you attended an awards ceremony with members of Vantus Ventures at your table, including your former Commanding Officer, just three weeks ago. How is it that you are unaware of this week's arrests considering that three of the men arrested, and one who died while resisting arrest, were employees of Vantus?"

"You know, Bradley, I actually feel much better about the situation now that you've provided some details. Ryan Crawford was the most capable leader and honorable man I met while I served in the military. I have complete faith in him and know that if there are any issues to be addressed at Vantus, I couldn't hope for a more capable champion."

"Thank you, Senator," Singh jumps in at the end of his answer to preempt any additional comments. "Karen, we're back to you, perhaps for questions on another topic?"

Seeming slightly annoyed at being redirected, Brown flips a sheet in her small notebook to move to a new topic.

"Senator," she begins, "Washington is a polarized metropolis, with an entire population and infrastructure seemingly built to cater to a two-party system that often seems impenetrable to other political ideologies. Unlike Europe, third party candidates here rarely command attention or respect and their efforts and ideas are often derided or ignored. How is it that you've been so effective as a lone Independent, working without the support of a party organization?"

"It's been difficult, Karen, that's certainly true. Our institutions, our primary system, even our media encourages us to think in only two dimensions. But we know that the world is more complex than that, and the voters in New York know that, too. The people of this great state – and I suspect voters elsewhere, too – they're tired of the bickering and posturing of DC's partisan politics. They don't care about whether something is a Republican or Democratic position. They care about doing the right thing – protecting the innocent, building a future for our children, keeping the country strong. So, I cross lines and vote as I think the people deserve on each topic. It's made enemies, certainly. But you know what, Karen? It's also made friends. There are other politicians who feel trapped by party labels, who just want to vote with their conscience. They see the freedom that the people of New York have given me, and how well it works. And so they help me, join our cause when they can, because they see that we're onto something here, something that could be great if only we had more examples."

"Is that how you see your role, Senator Bracken, as an ambassador for a new wave of political cooperation?" Sandoval asks, not waiting for Singh to call on him. "Is this Senate 2.0 that you're proposing?"

"'Senate 2.0,'" Bracken muses. "I like that, Tomas. I might have to borrow it. But why limit it to the Senate? Our whole system would benefit from a truer reflection of the values and aspirations of the voters. If we only improve the Senate, we still need the House in order to propose legislation. We need the presidency to appreciate and work with Congress. And we need the Court to uphold the spirit of laws that we'd pass. How about 'Politics 2.0,' to bring it all under the umbrella?"

"Bradley, your turn," Singh prompts, eager to prolong this line of discussion following the applause and whistles that accompanied the announcement of 'Politics 2.0.'

"Senator," Hudson begins, "you can appreciate that readers of the _Journal_ are particularly attuned to funding issues. While the system you propose is laudable, the fact remains that the most significant funding opportunities for candidates are controlled by the established political parties. Yet, despite the disadvantage at which this places Independent candidates, you have neither supported nor voted for legislation that would increase fundraising transparency or require disclosure of significant donors to political campaigns. Why not support a measure that would so clearly provide support for 'Politics 2.0?'"

"I know that some of my Republican colleagues like to think that they hold a monopoly on this belief," Bracken says, mugging for the audience, "but you don't have to be a member of their party to love the Constitution. As I imagine you'd agree, Bradley, Freedom of Speech is one of the fundamental underpinnings of our way of life, and that freedom includes the right to support particular candidates or not. I am proud to name every donor who publicly supports my cause, and I'm proud to honor the desire of those who want to exercise their rights privately."

"So your refusal to identify your campaign donors is a recognition of their free speech rights, rather than a fear that your voting record will be subject to scrutiny?" Hudson follows up without waiting for Singh to act as moderator.

"Bradley, I choose to protect those who believe in me. I can't speak for why others want to keep their donors private. But I will note that it's pretty obvious what a donor to an established party is supporting," Bracken notes.

"But under that logic …," Hudson starts to ask, but is cut off by Singh.

"Actually, Bradley, it's Karen's question," Singh says with some annoyance at having been preempted.

"Senator," Brown asks, "despite your comments regarding donors to established parties, isn't it true that as an Independent, your erratic voting record would mask votes that have been affected by political contributions? Why risk the insinuations?"

"Karen, I'm not going to be held hostage out of fear that some coward will make accusations about my voting record. My votes are public and I always provide the rationale for why I vote the way I do. New Yorkers deserve nothing less. Insinuations do not bother me, I'll let my record speak for itself," Bracken concludes.

"What about when the donors to your campaign are criminals, contributing and potentially laundering the proceeds from illegal activity?" Sandoval asks nakedly, causing a gasp from Singh, a scowl from Bracken, and a sudden cessation of noise from the audience.

"Tomas, I assume that you wouldn't be so irresponsible as to make such an allegation without support," Bracken says fiercely.

"Do you deny that you have received a significant percentage of your campaign contributions from Scott Riley, Tran Nyguen, and Vulcan Simmons, all of whom have been convicted of felonies ranging from drug trafficking to assault to racketeering?"

"Of course I deny any hint, suggestion, or slanderous insinuation that there is any violation of campaign finance regulations in my administration. Tomas, you're treading on exceptionally thin ice with such irresponsible rumor-mongering."

Terrified that Bracken might end the interview, Singh looks beseechingly at Hudson, who is next up for a question. Sustaining eye contact with him for long seconds before speaking, Singh hopes that he'll be cooperative. "Bradley, perhaps you'd like to introduce a new line of discussion?"

"One of the themes that you've emphasized, Senator," Hudson leads in, "is accountability. As you just mentioned, you set a standard for accountability in your administration and are one of the few members of Congress to provide a posting to explain your rationale for every vote. How has that commitment affected your reception in Washington?"

Clearly putting his distaste for the previous line of questioning behind him, Bracken warms to this topic, to Singh's great relief. "Accountability has to be the cornerstone of any position that operates in the public trust. I represent the interests of New Yorkers, and New Yorkers pay my salary. They pay for the programs that we vote for. They are my boss. Can you imagine having a job where you get paid and are entrusted to spend someone else's money but are never held accountable? It might sound like a party but it wouldn't last long," Bracken says with a laugh for the audience. "We all know it, and I'm including my colleagues in the Senate, too. We might all have different ways of showing it, and we might disagree on the best way to save or spend funds, but we all know that we are accountable for our actions on behalf of our constituents."

"A quick follow-up if I may, Anita?" Hudson asks, and Singh grants his request mostly out of appreciation that her role as moderator was acknowledged.

"Senator, is it safe to assume that the same mantle of accountability that you hold applies to your staff as well?"

"Of course, Bradley. That's why we spend so much time finding and training the best people that New York has to offer. We are a team in DC, all working on behalf of the people of New York."

"Karen?" Singh prompts the question around to the next in line.

"If accountability is the cornerstone of any public position, does your focus on that concept stretch back to your days before the Senate?"

"That's right, Karen. It really stretches back to my military service, where we learned – repeatedly – that you are accountable for yourself, your squad, and the effects that your actions might have on either of those. It was a lesson that I took with me to the DA's office, and then to the senate."

"A follow-up?" Brown asks, receiving a nod from Bracken before Singh reacts.

"If your focus on accountability goes back to your days in the DA's office, perhaps you could discuss your prosecution of Joe Pulgatti, who has claimed his innocence for more than a decade, or why your chief of staff was arrested this evening on charges of attempted murder regarding those who were investigating the homicide of Mr. Pulgatti's legal counsel?"

For a brief moment, there is absolute silence in the studio, as even the normally unflappable Senator is at a loss for words. Then, unable to mask his fury, he stands up, yanks the microphone from his lapel, and storms off the set.

* * *

**Sound Booth, **_**Access New York**_** Studio, Tuesday ~8:45 PM**

"Paula, that was beautiful," Castle praises as he watches the commotion around him as Anita Singh and her staff scurry desperately to fill the 15 minutes of dead time created by Bracken's abrupt departure.

"Tomas nearly screwed it all up, that jackass," Paula growls. "'Light touch' is what we emphasized and he charged in like a freaking trust fund virgin at his first brothel. Thank god for Karen – she hit him right between the eyes with that last bit. And Bradley teed it up beautifully for her after his nice delivery with the Vantus reference …," Paula trails off as her eyes close and she recalls the carnage.

"Let me guess," Beckett offers, seeing the look of bliss on Paula's face, "better than sex?"

Opening her eyes quickly and giving Beckett an incredulous look, Paula fires back. "Lady, if you think so, you're not doing him right," she says with a nod at Castle. Unable to fully contain her blush, Beckett curses herself for the clumsy attempt to communicate on Paula's level.

"Still," Paula admits with a smile, "it was a pretty close substitute."

"They hit all the right notes," Shaw cuts in to get them back on track. "Vantus, the funding sources, the arrest of Bracken's chief of staff, and Pulgatti's name – there's not a reporter or blogger in this town who'll sleep tonight. By morning, Bracken will be surrounded by inquiries and lacking his right hand man. You wanted him rattled, that ought to do it."

"So now what?" Paula asks. "Who do we take apart next?"

"Paula, I think your role is done for tonight …," Castle starts to explain, but surprising no one, Paula cuts in.

"Done for tonight? You're kidding, right?" she asks brusquely. "You tools played pussyfoot with this guy for more than a decade and I just took him apart in 45 minutes. Done? Now we move in for the kill!"

"_We're _still moving forward, but _you're_ done for now," Castle replies calmly, letting Paula's inflated sense of importance slide by. "I expect that Bracken will try to set up a press conference for tomorrow or Thursday to address the firestorm that will follow after tonight's event. We could use your help with that, making sure that the right people attend and are armed with enough information to cut through his spin."

"Besides," Shaw adds, "we've got to get to our next meeting and our people not on duty now need to get some rest for what will be an interesting few days."

"Really? Get some rest, huh?" Paula says as she hooks an arm around the elbow of the FBI agent standing next to her. "I'm _hungry_. C'mon Graham. I'm feeling like s'mores. Let's go get some chocolate and marshmallow, then we'll make sure you get some 'rest.'"

Chuckling at the odd mix of excitement and fear on Graham's face as he's dragged out of the sound booth, Jordan turns to figure out next steps with Castle and Beckett.

"I'm not sure if Graham will thank you or curse you for hanging him out there for Paula," Castle chuckles.

"He'll be fine," Shaw says dismissively, with a smile. "Besides, it'll keep your agent occupied. She's something. Makes me wonder if you even know how to write – I think we could package up your drunken ravings on a bar coaster and that woman could make it your next best-seller just by force of will."

"I … _excuse me_?" Castle replies, affronted. "_Please_. It's like this panel discussion – she can set it up, but couldn't have done anything without the information we provided. In fact, …" Castle trails off as he notices that both Beckett and Shaw are struggling to keep straight faces.

"God, I must be really tired if I fell for that," Castle says, chagrined, while both of his companions break out in laughter. "Fine, fine, get it out of your systems. Then, might we actually _focus _on our case?" he says haughtily, which just provokes more snickers.

Finally getting herself under control, Beckett asks "So, what's next? You mentioned another meeting. It'll have to be just us – everyone else is spread thin watching our principal targets," she says, referring to the cobbled-together teams watching Riley, Nyguen, Simmons, and Bracken's local residence.

"We've got a meeting up at my attorney's office," Castle says.

"Not the time to re-do your will, Castle," Shaw offers.

"We're meeting there for safety – it's a secure building and the protective services are excellent," Castle explains. "My attorney will be there, but only as a host, and to provide privilege to the discussion if we think we need it."

"Come on, Martha, drop the drama," Beckett chides, trying to move things along. "Who are we meeting?"

"Steven Larson and Jackson Truitt," Castle answers. "The President and Managing Director of Vantus Ventures," Castle answers smugly, noticing the shocked looks from Beckett and Shaw. "It's logical, right? Tonight, we gave Bracken something else to worry about. Now, we need Vantus off our backs, and I think I know how to do it."

Looking contemplative, Shaw breaks in first. "What do you have in mind?"

Castle's about to answer when he's interrupted by the ringing of Beckett's phone.

"Hello?" Beckett answers without providing her name after noting that the phone number for the incoming call was blocked.

"_Kate, is that you?"_

"Alexis? Yes, it's me. What do you need? Your dad's right here." At hearing his daughter's name, Castle's shifted all of his attention on Beckett.

"_I'm not calling for my dad, I'm calling about yours. He's … he needs you. We're safe, but the agents here watched _Access New York_ and your dad didn't react well. I heard that he had some trouble after your mom was killed, and he's not looking good now. He's trying to leave. I'm afraid he'll do something he'd regret. Can you come see him?"_

"I … of course I will. I'll talk to Jordan and figure out how to make this work. Let me get moving, I'm not sure how long it'll take me to get there. Just let him know that I'm coming, don't let him leave," Beckett says quickly, noticing that Shaw and Castle have started a conversation based on what they've overheard. "Thank you, Alexis, for taking care of my dad."

"_Ditto, Detective. Now, hurry. See you soon, and tell dad I love him," _Alexis says as she rings off.

"Your dad?" Castle asks, while Beckett nods. "Alright, let's go. I'll reschedule with the Vantus guys."

"Castle, you can't do that," Beckett argues. "They might be the biggest threat to us right now, and if you think you have a way to contain them, that should be our priority."

"_You're_ my priority," Castle says stubbornly, stepping up to Beckett and reaching for her hand. "I should be there with you."

"And I want you there, Rick," Beckett says, stepping into him. "But the best way to keep me safe is to get Vantus under control. But I won't be upset if that meeting ends quickly and you join us soon."

"Splitting up now feels wrong," Castle replies, though from the tone of his voice it's apparent that he agrees with the need to meet with Vantus. "It's like a horror movie where everyone in the audience is shouting 'don't split up, you idiots,' but the hapless actors do anyway."

"Castle, we all know that those characters only get scared when they split up – they get killed when they're having sex. So we can abstain until this is over if you're getting concerned …," Beckett teases, trying to lighten the moment.

With a rueful chuckle and a whispered "_Never_," Castle looks up at Shaw. "Jordan, how do we do this – can you get Kate to the safe-house where our families are?"

"We need to relieve Ryan and Esposito from the Riley detail. Ryan wants to see his wife, so Avery was going to head out anyway," Jordan offers. "I'd take Kate myself and have Avery take you to the Vantus meeting, Castle, but he seems to think that you're a curse."

"I'd complain, but if I can't have Kate then I'd like you riding shotgun on this meeting," Castle says, surprising both women by not taking advantage of the opportunity to trade a quip. "But we should get moving – how quickly can Avery get here? We need to meet the Vantus guys at 10:00, and we've got a bit of a drive to get up there."

"He's downstairs waiting for me," Shaw answers as she ushers them out the door toward the elevator. "Let's get moving, and you can explain your strategy on the way to the law firm. Detective Beckett, we'll meet you guys at the safe-house later tonight."

After stepping onto the elevator and beginning the short descent, Castle takes Beckett's hand and murmurs to her. "Take care of your dad, and let me know if you need anything. Tell Alexis and Mother that I love them and I'll be there soon."

Squeezing his hand as they leave the elevator and walk to the curb after a quick look around, Beckett grabs Castle for a fierce kiss, still mindful of his shoulder. "You need to rest, you need to recuperate, and you need to get your ass back to me. Be safe, babe."

"_Always_," Castle replies as he releases his hold to allow Beckett to slides into Avery's car. As they drive off to pick up Ryan and Esposito, she's not sure if their word was apt or a dangerous way of tempting fate.

* * *

.

A/N: Sorry about the campaign speech, but if Bracken was in the situation described in this chapter, he would have used it as a platform to advance his agenda and hopes for a subsequent candidacy. With luck, it wasn't too difficult to slog through the posturing before the questions got more pointed and Bracken got uncomfortable. More soon, hopefully Sunday.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below.

.

_Squeezing his hand as they leave the elevator and walk to the curb after a quick look around, Beckett grabs Castle for a fierce kiss, still mindful of his shoulder. "You need to rest, you need to recuperate, and you need to get your ass back to me. Be safe, babe."_

"_Always," Castle replies as he releases his hold to allow Beckett to slides into Avery's car. As they drive off to pick up Ryan and Esposito, she's not sure if their word was apt or a dangerous way of tempting fate._

* * *

**Safe-House, New York City, Tuesday ~10:00 PM**

For the past hour, Beckett's felt torn in half, worried about both her father and Castle while being in stuck in transit between the two of them. As they complete the security protocols to enter the 'safe-house,' which turns out to be more of a 'capacious-safe-condo,' she's still anxious. At least she'll be face-to-face with one of the 'men in her orbit' as soon as they get inside.

As soon as the door opens, Beckett rushes past the FBI agent and scans the room, looking for her father and for any signs of trouble. The first thing she notices is that the room into which she's flown – a living room, from the looks of it – is calm. The second thing she notices is her father sitting on the couch, anchored by Alexis, who looks like she'd not release his hand for anything except Beckett herself.

They've both just finished rising from the couch when Beckett approaches and immediately moves to hug her father. Wrapping him tight, she turns her head to the side to mouth "Thank you" to Alexis, who replies with a smile and a small nod.

"Oh, dad, I was so worried," Beckett says to her father, still not letting him go.

"Sorry, Katie, but I wasn't ready to hear about it like that," Jim Beckett replies. "It caught me off guard and I didn't react very well."

"A family trait, I guess," Beckett says ruefully, remembering her night at the law firm with Castle.

"Can you tell me about it? Tell me what's going on?" her father asks of Beckett. Pulling back to look at him, Beckett sees the concern on his face, but he seems controlled and relatively calm. Noticing movement in the periphery, Beckett looks around to see that Esposito and Martha are also in the room, with Ryan presumably off finding Jenny.

"Yeah, dad," Beckett answers. "Maybe we should bring everyone up to speed. We should get the Ryans, too," she says. Esposito starts to move to find his partner, but with a hand to his shoulder as she passes, Alexis walks by to retrieve the rest of their party.

"Where's Lanie?" Beckett asks while looking around, concerned about her friend.

"Back at home. At her parent's home, I mean," Esposito says. "She figured that getting out of town might be better than being under house arrest with the feds."

Beckett's still nodding when Alexis and the Ryans return, everyone moving to find a seat in the living room. While large, it wasn't really designed to accommodate seven adults, but it works out after Alexis perches on the ottoman against which Esposito rests his back while he sprawls out on the floor.

Beckett's wondering where to start the story when her father prompts the discussion. "How long have you known that it's Bracken?" he asks, his voice quivering slightly despite his calm appearance.

With a sigh, Beckett realizes that she needs to start at the beginning, at least in an abridged way, since her father and Castle's mother are completely out of the loop.

"Castle figured it out a couple months ago," Beckett starts, noting the look of surprise on Martha's face and the look of pride on Alexis'. "But it was all theory, supposition, so we've been working – quietly – to build a case and collect evidence."

"Katie, you told me that you'd stay away from this, stay away from the danger," Jim laments.

"I did stay away, for a while. Castle kept me away from it. I didn't know it, but he made a deal to keep me safe," Beckett says quietly.

"I'm sorry about that," Jim says, hanging his head.

"What?" Beckett says while looking intently at her father. "You knew about the deal with Smith?"

"Who's Smith?" Jim replies. "I asked Rick to keep you safe, to keep you off the case. I know it wasn't my place, but I was worried," he says, looking at his hands in his lap.

Beckett's starting to get angry when she pulls herself back. This news doesn't actually change anything, except to make her appreciate a little more the stress that Castle was under, getting pressure from multiple directions to reign her in while all the time knowing, with disturbing accuracy, how poorly she'd react if she found out.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Beckett restarts. "No, there was someone else, someone with damaging information on Bracken. He didn't want the information to go public, but he used it as leverage to keep me safe as long as Castle kept me from poking around. But we figured out who had the file, and we tracked him down on Sunday."

"Why didn't he just send the information to the police, or the newspaper?" Jim Beckett asks, confused.

"Dad, this is something I've struggled with. For us, it's always been about mom – what happened to her and who did it. It's defined the adult half of my life, and I know how it's affected you," Beckett says quietly, glad that the others in the room are content to just listen. "But mom's murder isn't at the heart of this. Bracken's guilty of so much more, has harmed so many others. There are innocent bystanders who may be hurt when this comes out."

Pausing to make sure that he's following the discussion, Beckett continues after meeting his eyes for a few moments. "The man with the file was protecting one of those innocents. He wanted to hold Bracken off but not bring it all crashing down. One of the hardest decisions I've had to make is whether pursuing justice for mom is worth the risk to other innocents who have been affected by this."

"But you've gone ahead, if that press event with Bracken is any indication," Beckett's father prompts.

"Yes," Beckett sighs, "we've gone ahead. We'll try to protect those we can, but even if we ignore everything else – justice for mom and collateral damage – the fact is that Bracken's making new victims every day. So, in the end, there wasn't really a choice to be made."

"So you found him, the guy with the information?" Alexis asks when the lull between Beckett and her father makes it clear that she wouldn't be breaking the moment. "You have the file?"

"That's where your dad was when I collected you yesterday. He had the file and was trying to get back to the precinct, but some people nearly caught him on his way in," Beckett says.

"Yeah, I've got a question about that," Esposito chimes in. "After everything that happened yesterday, I never asked how they found him."

"We're not sure," Beckett admits, "but we have a theory." Turning to Alexis as the focal point for her explanation, Beckett starts lightly. "You'd be proud of your dad, Alexis. He was so careful and planned very well. Castle has some alternate IDs that he uses for book tours. He used those to have rental cars waiting at many different locations so that we could switch cars while looking for Smith, in case we were being tailed. They were waiting for him at one of those stops yesterday. The ID used for that rental was the same one he used for our first car, the one we picked up from the train station. We must have been followed after we left the hospital on Saturday, but they lost us until Castle had the file and was on his way back."

"But Richard is okay, right, Katherine?" Martha asks, looking for reassurance.

"He's fine. He's stitched up and it looks like he'll get by with a shortened course of physical therapy," Beckett says happily, sharing a smile that Castle got off so lightly from a gunshot wound and avoided nerve damage from Mazar's crazed abuse. No need to tell them that a 'shortened course' will still be a solid four to six weeks.

"What?!" Alexis nearly screeches. "What happened to Dad?"

The detectives trade startled looks as they share the realization that Alexis and Martha don't know about Castle's injury.

"Alexis, your father has a gunshot wound to his left shoulder," Beckett begins, trying to sound calm and slightly clinical to counter the gasps that her statement caused. "It was a deflection, which might not sound like much, but it's a big help. There was no exit wound, which makes it far easier to treat and will help greatly in his recovery."

"He said he was fine!" Alexis fumes. "'Got banged a bit,' he said. Him and his stupid puns. I'm going to kill him!"

"I'm not sure if this will help, Alexis, but it will at least prove that he kept his humor about him," Beckett explains, trying to calm Alexis down while also trying to reach out to Martha, who has been uncharacteristically quiet and looks wan. "When we first talked to him after he got away, I asked him if he'd been shot and he said 'a little bit.' I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. But he's okay, he'll be fine."

"So now what?" Jim Beckett asks, perhaps as a way to steer the conversation away from Castle's injury and the distress it's causing Alexis and Martha.

"Bracken's smart enough to know that his political career ended tonight," Beckett says without malice. "Even if we didn't have evidence – and that file looks like it will be enough to spur several investigations – a regular politician couldn't withstand the kind of allegations that came out tonight. Supporting domestic terrorism, money laundering, associating with base criminals, the arrest of his chief of staff – it will haunt him, make him untouchable as a candidate. And as an independent, he's got no party structure to shield him."

"That's a blessing on one hand – he's going to be too distracted to come after us for at least a day or so – but it's also a risk. He'll either try to fight for his political life, drop the veneer and operate as a criminal, or run. He'll be unpredictable in the short term and he might try to lash out at us regardless of which route he follows," Beckett guesses.

"But he's also got to watch his own back – we used the names of some of his least savory associates tonight to give them a reason to cut ties with him. If they're worried that he might sell them out, they might make a move of their own," Beckett concludes, but this time she can't keep a bit of righteous satisfaction at Bracken's situation from inflecting her tone.

"And you'd be okay with that?" Jim Beckett asks, causing Beckett to pause.

"Are you asking me as an officer if I'd be okay with a criminal being killed by other criminals," Beckett replies, "or are you asking me as Johanna's daughter if I'd be okay with Bracken dying or going down for something that doesn't hold him publicly accountable for what he did to mom?"

When Jim Beckett can't answer and simply gives her an inquisitive stare, Beckett tries to answer the question that she's been wrestling with herself. "I used to want him to go on trial, to have to answer to the world for what he did to our family. And if that's what happens, maybe I'll be happy," she begins.

"But I've also started to wonder about how much more could go wrong. Mom's case was years ago, and he used others to carry it out. So many of the people involved back then are gone – what if we go through all this and we lack the evidence for a conviction? What if the trial opens up other doors, other wounds, and more people are harmed? And even if we arrest him, _and _win at trial, that process will take _years_. And we've both seen enough people like him to know that he could still cause a lot of harm from behind bars," Beckett finishes quietly.

Still, Jim Beckett stares at his daughter, silently prompting her to address the rest of the question.

"I'm an officer," Beckett says. "I'm an officer because of him, because of what he did. If he's in harm's way and I can protect him then I will, because that's my job and that's who I am," she vows. "Protect him so that he can answer for his crimes. But if someone kills him when I can't be there? I might cry because this will finally all be over, but I won't cry for him."

Beckett's pronouncement causes a moment of quiet reflection among the group, along with some nodding heads. After waiting a few moments, Alexis breaks the silence. "Kate? Where's Dad?"

"He's in a meeting," Beckett answers, then immediately realizes that her answer isn't adequate and that Alexis and others deserve a more fulsome response.

"You heard the reference to Vantus Ventures on tonight's broadcast, right?" Beckett asks, prompting more nodding heads. "The men we tangled with at your graduation were from there, and we suspect others were, too. Now that Bracken's link to them is exposed, we're hoping he backs off. Your dad is meeting with Vantus leadership right now to get them off our backs."

"What? Dad's meeting with the people that have been trying to kill you? _Alone_?" Alexis asks incredulously while reaching out to hold her grandmother's hand.

Beckett makes the mistake of glimpsing quickly at her father, but Alexis notices the look and figures out what's going on – that Beckett is here because of her father, rather than off protecting Alexis' father. To her credit, Alexis looks abashed, but Beckett tries to jump in before anyone else reaches the same conclusion.

"Oh, god," Jim Beckett moans, and Beckett knows that she's too late. "Rick's out there injured and alone because I couldn't … because I almost … I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to him. Never."

"He's not alone," Beckett answers quickly, trying to sound upbeat. "He's got Jordan Shaw with him, and she's excellent. And, he set up the meet at a secured location," Beckett explains. "I'm not sure where he picked it up, but Castle has proven to be very effective at working out the logistics of clandestine meetings and covert transport."

Noticing that Alexis doesn't look satisfied, Ryan cuts in. "Hey Alexis, remember our discussion out at the beach? Did you ever hear about the meeting that Castle set up to tell us what he'd figured out?"

When Alexis shakes her head, Ryan starts telling the story of that night that seems so long ago. With Esposito jumping in to share the narrative, they soon have the story going well enough that Alexis, Martha, and Jenny are entranced. Beckett's father still looks morose, but he's listening attentively. Martha, alternatively, looks particularly proud when the boys describe Castle's feigned drunkenness that had duped them all.

"Detective Beckett?" a quiet voice calls from the doorway to the next room. Looking up to see a petite blonde FBI agent gesturing for her, Beckett excuses herself and walks into the next room.

"I'm Hovannes, Beth Hovannes," she introduces as she dials a number into an odd-looking hand-held phone. "We got a message from Jordan that she needs to talk to you. This is a secure phone that should protect your call and our location – it's the one that Ms. Castle used to contact you earlier," Hovannes explains as she hands the phone to Beckett.

"_Hello?"_ Beckett hears Jordan on the other end of the phone.

"Hi Jordan, it's Kate. Is something wrong?" Beckett asks, worried about the reason they are talking on the phone rather than in person.

"_Well, things aren't ideal. Let me put Castle on,"_ Jordan says, not waiting for a response before handing off the phone.

"_Kate?"_ she hears Castle say.

"Hey partner. Why aren't you here? Is everything okay?" Beckett asks, trying to walk a path between saying too much on the phone despite the assurances of privacy and figuring out what's going on.

"_We're okay, but we need to change plans,"_ Castle says. _"The meeting went okay. They'll back off, at least from the top."_

"So, what's the problem? Are you being followed?" Beckett guesses.

"_Yes and no,"_ Castle replies. _"We were here early enough to see our friends arrive. They were followed, but their watchers are still outside even though they left. We don't have a vehicle, and it'll be hard to shake them loose this late with limited traffic and building closures."_

"There's something else, isn't there?" Beckett asks, picking up on something unsaid in Castle's tone.

"_Yeah,"_ Castle admits. _"Kate, I'm not doing well. It's been a long day and my body keeps reminding me that I got shot yesterday. I know it's a scratch compared to what you suffered, but my body's shutting down and I don't have the energy to try any elaborate escape plan right now."_

"We'll be right there," Beckett answers, already looking around and making plans, but also thankful that Castle seems to be listening to the demands of his body.

"_I don't think that's a good idea," _Castle replies. _"I've talked to Jordan and she agrees. We can't have too much traffic to and from the safe-house, and we can't be sure that our watchers aren't here to lure more of us out. I've got a place where we can hole up for tonight. It's not where we had the meeting, but we can get there without a problem. As much as I hate being away from you, especially now, I think we just need to hunker down until we can meet in the morning."_

What a terrible plan, Beckett thinks. After everything that they've gone through to get here, having them split up feels wrong, unsafe. "Jordan's on board with your plan?" she asks, looking for another vote.

_"It was actually her idea,"_ Castle admits. _"I was going to try to push through, but she pointed out that a girl scout could take me down right now. _Don't say it_,"_ Castle admonishes, knowing that Beckett was about to ask him how that differed from usual.

"And you're sure you have someplace safe to hide out?" Beckett frets, realizing that by asking she's accepted the plan.

_"Yeah, it's close by. I'm not running out to the pharmacy, though, so could I get you to bring a first aid kit with you tomorrow?"_ Castle asks.

"Of course," Beckett replies. "Where are we going to meet?"

Castle's low chuckle makes Beckett realize that he's thought about this already. _"Remember where we were when you first mentioned the ice cube trick?"_ Castle asks, reminding Beckett of the magic shop and bringing a smile to her face despite the stress of their situation.

"You know I do," Beckett replies. "What time?"

_"Remember the guy Hagerty arrested, the one with green hair?"_ Castle asks, reminding Beckett of a laugh they shared at the precinct about two months ago, just before the Cartwright case. "What he was booked for."

Beckett casts her mind back, recalling the bizarre story that Hagerty laid out in the breakroom. The guy dressed as the Joker was actually a struggling, slightly unbalanced actor who was trying to impress a film crew to earn a part in their production. Why he though dressing like a comic book villain would impress the director of a movie about the experience of an Irish immigrant family from the 1930s was a bit of a flaw in his plan. He was booked for trespassing on the site – code 945. "Okay, I'll see you in the morning. You're going to be careful, right?"

_"Beckett, my future has never looked brighter,"_ Castle says confidently. _"It'll take more than a murderous senator and his lackeys to keep me away."_

"Stop tempting fate and get some rest," Beckett chides. "I love you."

_"Love you, too, Kate. Take care of our family and I'll see you in the morning."_

Beckett disconnects the phone and hands the phone back to an interested Hovannes. "They're not coming in tonight, but they've got someplace to shelter," Beckett explains, then realizes from Hovannes' nods that the agent must have already worked that out with Shaw. Turning in place, Beckett starts walking back toward the living room, trying to figure out how she'll explain Castle's absence to his daughter.

* * *

**Abandoned shop, New York City, Wednesday ~9:30 AM**

After watching the abandoned storefront from a café across the street for the past half an hour, Beckett's convinced that there hasn't been any unusual activity and is anxious to move. So, even though she's still early, Beckett makes her way out of the café and across the street.

After taking one pass by the premises that used to host a magic shop and trying to casually peer in, her efforts are defeated by the film that the building's owner placed on the windows to obscure the inside. Beckett walks an extra hundred yards past the storefront before turning to approach from the opposite direction. On her second pass, she pauses and kneels in front of the inset door, pretending to fix a problem with her boot. While kneeling, Beckett reaches out to push on the door and is unsurprised to find that it's locked.

"Can I help you?" Beckett hears from a woman's voice behind her. Cursing herself for running into one of the city's rare Samaritans, Beckett turns and starts to stand. "No, thank you," she says as she looks up into the face of Danielle Britton.

"Turn around, Detective," Britton says while motioning with something clasped in her left hand from within her coat pocket. When Beckett's slow to comply, Britton loses her patience. "Don't flatter yourself, Detective. You couldn't take me on your best day, and you're not close to your best after the beating you took on the rooftop. Now face the door. I'm trying to be kind here, but I don't need you conscious to do what I'm here for."

"And what's that?" Beckett asks.

"Open the door," Britton says, ignoring the question as she slips Beckett's weapon from its holster.

"It's locked," Beckett says calmly.

"No kidding, _Detective_," Britton says with exasperation as she presses a pick kit into Beckett's right hand from behind her. "Come on, you're 'extraordinary.' A common industrial lock shouldn't pose any problem."

Beckett curses herself for the small surge of satisfaction she feels as the lock yields quickly to her efforts. Showing up Britton isn't exactly worth praise, and her speed just gets her and Britton off the street that much faster.

The shop has been stripped bare, but no one else has moved into the location. Aside from the counter, some forlorn posters, and papers strewn across the floor, there's little left to a place that once held such wonders.

"On your knees, hands clasped behind you," Britton says. As stealthily as she can manage, Beckett shifts slightly in preparation for a spin-kick. But she's not even done transferring her weight when Britton lashes out, delivering a sharp blow to Beckett's kidney. A second later, Beckett collapses to the floor following Britton's kick to the back of her legs.

"You're wasting my time, Detective," Britton says as she pulls Beckett's hands behind her and secures them with plastic zip cuffs. Noticing the marks that still linger on her wrists from Monday's misadventure, Britton huffs a laugh and says "Cuffed _again_." Then she knocks Beckett over with a push of her knee so that she's prone on the floor with hands bound behind her.

Seething from her assault and terrified about what will happen next, Beckett's trying to work out a plan when the door to the abandoned shop starts to open slowly. Dashing any hopes of rescue, Castle pops his head around the door and seems to freeze at the sight that greets him. Then, to their surprise, Castle stumbles in while hunched over holding his gut, steps erratic and faltering. He's alone, Beckett realizes to her dismay, and injured.

The unexpected nature of his arrival has so surprised them that both Beckett and Britton are quiet as Castle stumbles near. Beckett cries out a warning as Britton hesitantly extends her weapon towards him, looking uncertain. Neither warning has any effect as Castle continues to stagger forward.

Just as he reaches them, Castle straightens and launches a fierce back-hand at Britton, sending her weapon skittering across the room to the far corner. His ruse completed, Castle faces Britton, stance low and right arm raised.

How ridiculous, Beckett thinks, watching Castle square off against the woman who thrashed him soundly while he was training with the FBI. And today his left arm is immobilized, this left shoulder a target that could only be more obvious if it wore a giant red X.

"One last round, Castle?" Britton says with a grin as she moves on the floor, ensuring that she cuts off any attempt to go for her weapon. Interestingly, Beckett thinks, Britton doesn't pull the weapon that she confiscated.

"My supervisory agent would never forgive me if I didn't try," he says with a shrug, which prompts him to flinch in pain. Not a great start.

Britton releases a beaming smile, then moves first to test Castle. He moves well despite his injury, and succeeds in keeping his left side away from Britton. As has been his weakness all along, he's still hesitant to go on offense, instead focusing on countering Britton's assault. Unless Shaw is about to arrive, though, there's not much point in playing for time, Beckett thinks, especially with an injury that is going to sap Castle's strength.

At least the weight difference works in their favor this time. Unlike her rooftop fight where she had to worry about her opponent rushing her, Castle's big enough that any head-on move by Britton isn't likely to serve her well.

"You've been practicing," Britton says with praise. "Your footwork is much better and you've preempted several of my lead-ins." Hoping that her kind words have lowered his guard, Britton unleashes a flurry of quick strikes, only a few of which land. Had he not been hampered by his shoulder, Beckett thinks he might have avoided even those.

"Too bad you're gimpy," Britton says teasingly, "this would be even more fun if you were in _peak condition._" This last line is delivered with a head-to-toe assessment of Castle's form that gives Beckett yet another reason to seethe.

"Now, if only you'd learn how to hit a gir…," Britton's comment is cut off when Castle slides from a block to a strike. He'd sandbagged beautifully and had the blow landed the fight would likely be done. But Britton's reactions, even when distracted, were still quick enough to pull back and avoid most of the power to the shot.

"Well, well," Britton says with another smile. "Come on, Castle, let's play tag," she says playfully in response to having been hit.

What follows is remarkable, something Beckett's not likely to forget. It should be a fierce fight, and from Castle's side, it is. He's focused, resolute, and clearly in a lot of pain. If his shoulder was hurting last night, it must be ablaze now. Britton, on the other hand, looks like she's having the time of her life. She's laughing and smiling, moving around during their encounter as if it's a dance. It's not that she's not trying or toying with Castle – the fight is actually pretty evenly matched, with both of them landing and blocking hits. Instead, Britton seems to be enjoying an exuberance that comes from lacking constraint, moving freely even if her moves are countered. Maybe it actually is a dance, Beckett realizes.

Until it comes to a sudden end. Distracted by the fun she was having, Britton failed to realize that what appeared to be a clumsy swing by Castle wasn't actually an attempt to hit her – he'd noticed the bulge from where Britton had secured Beckett's weapon and tried to make a play for it. The move was a desperate one, probably prompted by flagging energy due to his injury. While clever, his attempt left Castle exposed. Rather than counter his move, Britton brings her head down suddenly, her forehead smashing into Castle's left shoulder. Like a marionette abandoned by the puppeteer, Castle abruptly folds in on himself and crashes to the ground.

Panting while she retrieves her weapon and locks the door to the shop, Britton walks back toward them but stops to assess Castle. After a few moments she seems to come to a decision and moves toward him.

"Stay away from him!" Beckett yells, finally finding her voice after the shock of the last ten minutes while trying to spin in place so that she can move from a prone to sitting position.

Ignoring Beckett, Britton rolls a panting Castle onto his back, the uses a strong hand on the back of his neck to pull him into a sitting position. Standing and moving around behind him, Britton grabs his shirt at the neck and uses it to drag him to the counter, against which he can rest his back and head.

With surprising gentleness, Britton secures his hands in his lap with another plastic zip cuff, careful to not jostle his left arm, which is improbably still in a sling. Standing and assessing him, Britton's compassion only extends so far, as she cuffs his ankles in return for securing his hands in front.

Beckett's about to ask what happens next when Britton withdraws a wicked looking knife from the pocketbook she'd discarded when they first entered the shop. Spinning the blade expertly so that it's a simple blur, she looks at her two captives while she keeps the knife spinning and walks to the end of the counter, about five yards from Castle. Then, in one smooth motion, her arm arcs around as she buries the point of the knife into the countertop.

Without saying a word, Britton then removes a phone from her pocket and dials a number. After waiting briefly, she begins to talk. "They're at the Whitney Museum. I followed Beckett there from the safe-house, but she made it inside before I could intercept. Castle was already inside. I didn't see Shaw. I'm outside covering the main entrance, but you'll need others to cover the rest of the building."

After waiting a bit to listen to whoever was on the other end, Britton responds. "No, I couldn't follow them," she says with disdain, then answers the obvious question. "Because the museum isn't open to the public for another half hour." Another pause. "You know Castle – he probably donated a ton of money and-or is on friendly terms with the female curators. They let him through. I can get buy a ticket in another 20 minutes, or I can watch the exit – what do you want me to do?" Another pause, this one longer. "So, I'm covering the whole building by myself, despite the fact that there are multiple egress points and both of my targets will recognize me. Yes, sir," she says with annoyance, then disconnects the call.

Placing the phone in her pocket, Britton takes a moment to check the contents of her pocketbook. Satisfied with her inventory, she looks up and explains.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," she says while looking at Castle. "They figured out you must have grabbed Weldon, so you know what I'm talking about. It starts so small – a favor here, an extra assignment there. Next thing you know, you're compromised or the people you care about are threatened."

Britton paces slightly, pausing next to the counter to think about boosting herself up on it, then discarding the thought since it would make it difficult to see Castle and Beckett from that vantage.

"I'd wanted to meet you for a long time," Britton says to Castle. "I was so excited during the case with Brooke. And then when it looked like you might join us, I thought it might all be worth it. But it's all fallen apart from there. I will say this, though," Britton says with a low chuckle. "Some of your opponents aren't very bright. It was obvious from when things went sideways on Monday morning in Port Chester that this was all going to come crashing down. So I've been making my own plans. By the time they realize I'm not at the Whitney, I'll be long gone."

Picking up her pocketbook and looking toward the door, Britton seems hesitant to leave. Instead of making for the door, she instead approaches Beckett and uses a zip tie to secure her ankles, too.

"I'm not going to hurt you, but I need a head start," Britton explains as she stands again and approaches Castle. Kneeling in front of him on his left side, she reaches out tentatively toward his injured shoulder. Both Beckett and Castle can't help but shudder as they recall Anna Mazar doing something very similar.

"I'm sorry about this," Britton says quietly. "It wasn't one of mine, I made sure of that. But I couldn't stop the others from trying. I'm sorry I hit you there. I just came to give you the warning." Then, keeping her balance by placing a hand on the counter against which Castle's back is resting, Britton leans forward and places a gentle kiss atop his injury.

What a bizarre turn of events, Beckett thinks. Two women after them, two days apart. One does her utmost to worsen the injury, while the other tries to soothe it.

While Beckett's been thinking about the differences in their antagonists, she's missed Britton's shift to reposition herself. But she doesn't miss the gentle but prolonged kiss that Britton delivers to the lips of a still pale and shocked looking Castle.

"I'm sorry, Castle," Britton says as she cups his cheek. "In another world …," she trails off as she slowly withdraws her hand and prepares to stand.

"Dani, wait," Castle says quietly. "I knew you were good. Even when you were bad, I knew you were good," he says with a small smile, showing that he knows his words sound silly but that they are exactly the ones he wanted. Britton returns the smile while ducking her head.

"My right front pocket," Castle says while trying to shift his position slightly. "There's about two grand in ready money. Take it," Castle says. When Britton looks hesitant, he repeats himself. "Take it, please."

Relenting, Britton leans over Castle and withdraws the cash, moving it to a compartment in her pocketbook. Standing and moving toward the door, she turns with one hand on the handle. "I know it'll be your job to find me," she says. "I don't resent that. But any head start you can provide will be appreciated – I might be able to return the favor. And don't go home, either of you. Your residences are being watched, and I wouldn't be surprised if they're rigged by now," she concludes, forcing Beckett to wonder if she's going to lose yet another apartment to an explosion.

Britton pauses, as if she wants to say something more, then decides better of it. She's turning back toward the door when Castle says "Good luck." She casts him a wistful smile over her shoulder and opens the door as Castle roots, "Run, Dani, run."

* * *

**Abandoned shop, New York City, Wednesday ~10:15 AM**

"Rick, are you alright?" Beckett asks as the door to the shop closes.

"Are you kidding? My rugged handsomeness just saved our lives. I feel vindicated!" Castle chuckles, then winces. "I just wish it didn't hurt when I laugh. Or breath. Or think."

Feeling terrible for him but still a bit angry, Beckett can't help but ask the question that's bothering her while she wiggles over next to him. "Rick, where's Jordan? Why did you come in?"

"We were nervous about tails this morning, so we split up," Castle explains. "She has to report in – she's running a covert internal operation that's already resulted in the arrest of one of her colleagues. I meandered on the subway during the morning rush to make sure I was alone. But then when I stuck my head in and Dani and I saw each other, I knew I couldn't just pull back and go for help. It was a rookie move," he says with his head against the counter and eyes closed. "And it nearly got us killed. I'm sorry, Kate."

"Don't worry about it, Castle," Beckett says in an attempt to rally his spirits. "As you say, you managed to get us out of it in the end. And I've got to say that your performance – first the acting, then the fight – was pretty impressive." Eyes still closed, a small smile settles itself on Castle's face and his expression lightens. "Though you can get rid of any ideas you have about using your wiles to advance any of our other investigations."

"That's okay, I can put them on the shelf," Castle says, eyes still closed. "They've accomplished what they were supposed to do."

"By getting us hog-tied in an abandoned magic shop, imitating inch-worms while trying to get free?" Beckett asks with exaggerated doubt.

"No, by getting us together," Castle replies simply. "What more would I need them for?"

What a sweet, dumb man, Beckett thinks affectionately. Finally levering herself in a sitting position next to him, she turns to whisper in his ear. "Rick, you've got me. But you still have to keep me. We like things interesting, right?"

Chuckling as he opens his eyes to look around the room and appreciate their setting, he agrees. "Yeah – interesting."

"Now, come on," Beckett chides. "I'm going to push myself up this counter and I might need a little help keeping my balance. Then, we're going to cut ourselves free and get you to the doctor. Britton's move just confirmed what we already knew – things are moving fast, now, and we need to be ready."

* * *

.

A/N: My daughter, who was _supposed_ to be my beta, just finished Chapter 15 and was highly unamused by the A/N there. Mission accomplished! We're in the home stretch now, hoping to wrap this up by the time we leave for vacation next weekend.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below.

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_"Now, come on," Beckett chides. "I'm going to push myself up this counter and I might need a little help keeping my balance. Then, we're going to cut ourselves free and get you to the doctor. Britton's move just confirmed what we already knew – things are moving fast, now, and we need to be ready."_

* * *

**Home of Dr. Laura Hieronymous, Wednesday ~11:45 AM**

Using one of the phones that they purchased on the way to visit one of Castle's acquaintances, Beckett dials the number that Beth Hovannes provided.

"_Hello?" _a neutral voice answers.

"This is Detective Beckett. Will you please connect me with Jordan Shaw?" she asks, then waits through a series of clicks as her call is transferred and probably secured.

"_Kate, where are you? Is Castle with you? We expected to hear from you long before now,"_ Jordan asks, sounding unusually concerned.

"We're okay. We ran into one of your colleagues this morning, and she decided to go one last round with Castle before leaving us tied up. We're getting Castle's shoulder checked," Beckett explains.

"_So, it was Britton, then? Pardon my bluntness, but if she had you both secured, why did she leave you behind?"_ Britton asks.

Sighing, Beckett tries to piece together a sensible answer. "She said she's taking herself off the board, making a run for it while Bracken's occupied. She's … developed an attachment to Castle. She wanted to deliver a warning before she left, told us that our homes are under surveillance and maybe rigged."

"_I've got a huge team now,"_ Jordan says. _"This has gone big-time at the Bureau. They tried to pull me off the case this morning, but I'm not going anywhere. We'll get crews there to check out your places and see if we can't catch any watchers. And Kate, I'll do anything I can to make sure nothing happens to your place this time around."_

"Thanks, Jordan," Beckett replies, appreciating Jordan's concern.

"_Although,"_ Shaw drawls out, _"moving in with Castle might not be such a hardship for you this time?"_ Thankfully, Beckett thinks, Shaw continues without waiting for a response. _"Speaking of which, I'll send someone over the hospital to collect you. Which one are you at?"_

"We're not at a hospital," Beckett admits. "Castle has a friend who was willing to leave the office and see him at her home. She's tending to him now."

"_Sometimes I wonder about Castle and how he knows all these people who are willing to do these things for him. But, I guess I'm one of them,"_ Shaw says to her own surprise. _"We've taken over the 5__th__ floor of your precinct. Text me an address where I can have someone pick you up and we'll bring you in – not where you are, but somewhere you can get to in 15 minutes that won't reveal where Castle was treated. Just in case, the team picking you up will have a safe-word. It'll be where Castle secured the original copy of the folder."_

"Okay," Beckett replies, happy with this plan. "I'll text you as soon as Castle's ready."

"_If you hurry,"_ Shaw says conspiratorially, _"you might be in time for the show. We've got teams assembled to raid the big three – Riley, Nyguen, and Simmons. We'll see if we can't get some fodder for a warrant on our favorite senator. Besides, if this makes his associates think that he's throwing them under the bus, it might heat things up nicely for us."_

"Any word from Bracken after last night?" Beckett asks, caught off guard by the plans for the raids and feeling out of the loop after their misadventure this morning.

"_He's called a press conference for 8:00 tonight,"_ Shaw replies. _"Weird timing. Other than that, nothing. Have you seen the news this morning?"_

"No, too busy being assaulted, trussed up, and getting a gunshot wound checked out under the radar," Beckett replies dryly. "I suppose last night's event made some headlines?"

"_I've got a full collection for you,"_ Shaw replies, _"stuff for your scrapbook. Let's just say that the _Ledger's_ headline of_ 'Senator's Past Spurs Felony Investigations' _is the most demure. I'll let you imagine what the _Post _used."_

"Stop, you'll make me feel bad," Beckett replies facetiously. Switching gears, Beckett says "Jordan, not to step on your toes, but can I make a suggestion?" After an affirmative response, Beckett continues. "If you're after the big three, compare the phones from them and their people against the Precinct's records. The sniper team at Marlowe knew when our backup rolled and we still haven't figured out how. It seems to me much more likely that one of those three, rather than Bracken himself, would have an informant at the 12th."

"_That's a good idea, Kate,"_ Shaw replies. _"Any problem bringing your Captain in on this? It might appeal to her IA background."_

"We should do that. She knows just about everything, now, so if she was on the inside, she's either switching allegiance or already has enough to bury us," Beckett says. Hearing Shaw take a deep breath, Beckett continues. "No, I don't think she's in on it. But, I don't entirely trust her, yet. I have a feeling that I might need to ask you to be a reference when this is all done – much of the work that's gotten us here hasn't exactly been by-the-book and she's made her displeasure clear."

This actually prompts a laugh from Shaw. _"Kate, if federal service has taught me anything, it's that success makes its own rules. If you bring down a corrupt senator, no one's going to quibble with how you spent your personal time to pursue justice. And if they do … well, let's just say that it would be much easier to have you and Castle as part of my team rather than abiding by all this joint task force hassle."_

"Thanks, Jordan, that's … good to know," Beckett says, playing with the possibility in her mind. "Hey, I hear Castle. We'll wrap this up and text you in a few minutes, then see you at the precinct."

"_See you soon, Detective,"_ Shaw signs off. _"Be careful."_

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Wednesday ~1:30 PM**

As Beckett enters the FBI's impromptu command center on the 5th floor, she notes that the room they'd used for their secret calls with Castle has been cleaned of all the discarded remains of office furniture. She's surprised to realize that this bothers her, like a private sanctuary has been violated.

"Your Captain suggested this room for us, noted that it had already been privy to many calls made to the FBI," Shaw says with a raised brow. "Where's your partner?"

"I might have conspired with his physician to up the dosage on his pain meds a bit. He's taking a quick nap in the break room on the fourth floor," Beckett replies with a small grin.

"Crap," Shaw replies. "I heard that's the only place in this building with decent coffee," she complains, before Beckett clarifies that the machine Castle provided so long ago is still accessible.

"He hasn't gotten us a coffee machine yet," Shaw grumbles, prompting a smile from Beckett. "It was a self-defense move on his part," Beckett explains, "and maybe a bit of a bribe. You've either got good enough coffee or you've been too accepting of him."

"How is he?" Shaw asks with genuine interest.

"He's okay – tore some stitches in his dance with Britton. He did well to stand in as long as he did," Beckett praises.

Some commotion from other agents in the room draws Shaw's attention, breaking their brief interlude of frivolity. When she comes back, she looks noticeably more focused, and a bit grim.

"What's the status of the raids?" Beckett asks.

"That," Shaw says, nodding over her shoulder, "was about the Riley team – they've taken fire and have called for backup. No injuries yet, but it might turn into a stand-off. Nyguen was quiet – some posturing, some attempted runners and hard-drive destruction, but no gunfire. But it's Simmons who worries me – he's gone. His house has been cleared out, his warehouse is vacant, and no one at his club has seen him."

"No leads?" Beckett asks, surprised that a violent mobster could go to ground so quickly without an ambitious lieutenant or rival selling him out.

"Nothing yet, but it hasn't even been two hours," Shaw replies, though she looks tense.

"What about the teams checking our places – any luck there?" Beckett asks, more curious about catching any surveillance teams than in getting access to her apartment. With the accelerating speed of events, she wonders if she'll even need more clothes than she has here in her locker before this case breaks.

"They're just now getting in position. I hope to have a report by 2:00," Jordan says while checking her watch.

"Then I guess the only front left, other than Bracken himself, is the check on any moles here at the 12th," Beckett notes, wondering about whether one of her colleagues is dirty.

"Bracken's still holed up in his New York residence. Captain Gates was looking into the mole until she was called to 1PP, but she might be back by now," Shaw replies. "I think she handed off to Ryan and Esposito. She's anxious to make sure that the four of you stay in the precinct after the abuse your team has taken in the last week."

With a pensive, rueful look, Beckett thinks about the injuries they've amassed in such a short period of time. Even Esposito, with his military training, took a good crack on the head.

That thought sparks in Beckett's mind, demands attention in a way she doesn't understand. Something about it bothers her, makes her think that she's missing something …

"Oh, no," Beckett says suddenly, turning for the door. Noting her urgency, Shaw runs behind her, following Beckett to the stairwell.

"Kate, what's wrong?" Shaw asks as they make the turn on the stairs, halfway to the fourth floor. Ignoring Shaw, Beckett takes the steps two at a time and rockets down the hallway, skidding to a halt outside the fourth floor break room.

"No!" Beckett cries as she sees that the room is empty. Her shout catches the attention of the bullpen, where Gates is standing behind Esposito, looking over his shoulder at something he was working on with Ryan. At hearing her, all three look up in alarm.

"Castle – where's Castle?!" Beckett says sharply, prompting a look of confusion among the three.

"He's in the break room, right?" Esposito says slowly.

Shaking her head, Beckett nearly shouts out directions. "Sir, please lock down the building – don't let anyone leave. Ryan, cut off any vehicles that try to leave the garage. Jordan, do you have anyone outside who could assist?"

No one's moving except Jordan, Beckett realizes to her dismay, they're just looking at her like she's paranoid. "Espo, did we ever check if anyone in the 12th with military experience served with Bracken, Wilson, or their CO, Crawford?"

"Damn it," Esposito curses, turning quickly to his computer screen. Galvanized, Gates dashes to her office at the same time Ryan bolts for the stairs. Feeling suddenly useless, Beckett's unwilling to leave, but she can check one theory while remaining primed to react. Moving to the elevator and stepping into the doorway when it arrives, Beckett sees that the black plastic bubble shielding the surveillance camera is still intact, so they should have security footage to review. Given Castle's size and the fact that he's most likely out cold, it's unlikely anyone carried him down the stairs.

Beckett's turning to check in with Esposito when Shaw shoves her into the elevator and punches the button for the ground floor.

"Someone just blew out of the parking garage. Avery was just arriving, so he's in pursuit," Shaw says tersely.

"Jordan, I'm going to get Castle back, but you need to stay here," Beckett says, willing the elevator to move faster. "You need to run the case and we need you here. We need someone we can trust. Tell Espo to check in the building, in case Castle's not in the car we're chasing."

"Kate, you can't do this alone," Shaw argues as the elevator doors open and they bolt for the door. Beckett's wondering how to explain to Shaw that she needs to run the investigation so that Beckett can focus only on Castle when providence intervenes in the form of Kevin Ryan. Screeching to a halt in front of the precinct, he leans across the seat and throws open the passenger door. "Move it!" he yells.

Beckett jumps into the car, which is already moving with the door still open and Beckett barely inside. Getting herself situated, Beckett tosses a wave to Shaw as Ryan peels out.

"Avery's on the Bluetooth," Ryan says while focusing intently on the traffic in front of him. "Radio for backup, will ya?"

"No radios," Beckett replies hastily. "We're chasing a cop from our own house. He's got to be listening. We'll call in through Gates," Beckett says as she dials and begins working through the Captain. As Beckett coordinates their effort, Avery keeps a constant stream of information going on the location of the vehicle that they're so desperately chasing.

Suddenly, Avery's tone changes. "Where are you?" he nearly shouts, "how far behind me?"

"We're about a block back," Ryan replies, still focused straight ahead and looking stressed.

"Someone just squealed into position behind me," Avery replies. "I think our bad guy has friends. Can you get to him before he gets to me?"

"Hold on," Beckett says, grabbing the radio mouthpiece. "Avery, get ready. I'm going to call in a fake roadblock ahead. Your target should do a hard course correction – he'll go west to avoid the park. We're going to turn early so that we can cut across from the south. You ready?"

After Ryan whips a hard left turn that's only possible due to the way cleared by his flashing lights and siren, Beckett calls in the fake roadblock. "He bought it," Avery says over the phone line. "He slowed down and turned left. We're heading west – where are you? I can't hear your siren."

"We're too close, we killed the siren," Ryan says. "We should both be approaching the same intersection soon. How sure are you that the guy tailing you is a bad guy?"

"As sure as I can be before he shoots me," Avery grumbles. "Black SUV, tinted windows, maybe armored. What's the play?"

"Seatbelts," Ryan says as he and Beckett secure their cabin for a collision. "Armored doors and reinforced windows don't do shit against a cruiser t-boning you at high velocity," Ryan says with a grim laugh.

As they approach the intersection, they see an unmarked cruiser flash by, followed closely by Avery's car. "Ready?" Ryan asks Beckett rhetorically, before he starts murmuring the rosary.

Maybe because it was planned, this collision is unique in Beckett's experience. In her past, when she's been unfortunate enough to be involved in car accidents, time seems to slow in the moments before impact. If anything, time seems to speed up for them as the careen through the intersection and embed their grill guard into the rear driver's side wheel of the SUV. Spinning 90 degrees, the SUV is disabled, the axle bent and the wheel at a precarious angle to the ground.

Lucky that the guard took the impact and the airbag didn't deploy, both Ryan and Beckett spill from their cruiser with guns drawn. Still stunned, the driver makes a foolish mistake of opening his door to engage. Ryan's got him disarmed and covered before he's fully extricated himself from the seatbelt, and with the driver's door open, the passenger is exposed even if he tries to stay in the vehicle. Any remaining fight the passenger might have offered, or any chance of escape, evaporates with the arrival of reinforcements from the precinct.

"Lower your window and drop your weapon!" Beckett shouts at the SUV while uniformed officers fan out from the two cars that stopped to assist, the two other proceeding to assist Avery. After roughly 30 second of tense inactivity, the window lowers enough to admit the release of a wicked looking semi-automatic rifle that clatters to the pavement.

Seeing the seriousness of the weapon has an instant effect on the officers. All of them hunker down and increase their focus on the SUV.

"Open the door and come out slowly, hands behind your head and fingers laced!" Beckett shouts. The door opens in response and a man on the far side of middle age emerges, looking proud even as he surrenders. "Turn and face the vehicle. On your knees," Beckett instructs. The uniformed officers are completely focused and silent until Beckett's cuffs secure the passenger's wrists behind his back.

"Mr. Crawford, I'm placing you under arrest," Beckett says with a tone that betrays some satisfaction as she recites the Miranda warning to the man responsible for sending assassins after her and Castle. The legality of this stop might be dubious, but she's happy to let the attorneys worry about that, content that Crawford is off the board, at least for the short term.

As she finishes, another cruiser pulls up, disgorging a harried looking Gates. "Detective Beckett, is the area secure?" Gates asks on approach, receiving an affirmative answer. "Can Detective Ryan handle the scene?" Gates follows up, again receiving a nod from Beckett. "Then get in my car, the driver will take you to the hospital where they're taking Mr. Castle."

* * *

**St. Peter's Hospital, New York City, Wednesday ~3:45 PM**

"Mmmmmmm, Kate," Castle says groggily as he slowly comes awake. With all the stress of the last several hours, Beckett's even more warmed than usual to be on the receiving end of Castle's beaming smile that he saves only for her. The smile falters, though, as he becomes aware of his surroundings.

"I'm pretty sure I was in the precinct when I fell asleep," Castle says as he looks around. "But this sure looks like a hospital. What happened?" he asks in confusion.

"Cooper from White Collar was probably working for Crawford. From his desk and a quick pull of his financials, it looks like he was getting ready to make a run for it, given where things are now. He saw you passed out in the break room and took you for a bonus," Beckett explains.

"Cooper – the scrawny guy with the bad haircut?" Castle asks. "How the hell did he get me out? He sure couldn't have carried me," Castle says with a chuckle that causes pain to flash across his face yet again.

"Uh, you're not going to like this," Beckett says, "but he used the janitor's garbage bin from the utility closet. We, ah, have it on the elevator security tape."

"Oh, great," Castle moans. "I'm sure that won't make the rounds at the precinct or cause any humiliation. Let me guess: he dumped me in and I folded in half, with my feet sticking out of the top of the damned bin."

When Beckett opts not to answer, Castle moans again and uses his right hand to gently rub his face. "Fabulous. Bust my ass and get shot and I'll be remembered for getting kidnapped in a trash bin," he laments. "But that doesn't explain why I hurt so much."

"It wasn't just the bin," Beckett explains. "Cooper dumped you into the trunk of a cruiser and made a break for it, but we figured it out almost immediately. Avery was right behind him, with Ryan and I in a chase car. You got tossed around like a rag doll during the pursuit. Ryan and I took out Crawford and his driver, while Avery chased Cooper until he lost control and crashed through a bus stand before colliding with a bodega."

"Mr. Toad's wild ride," Castle mutters while using his right hand to press on different areas that hurt from his head to his waist. "Is Avery okay? I'll never hear the end of it if he hurt his legs again."

"He's fine," Beckett reassures. "Everyone's fine."

"Well, don't get any ideas. You might have helped chase Cooper down, but I still bailed us out with Britton. So, I'm still one up on you in the who-saved-whom tally," Castle says with a smug grin.

When Beckett makes a sound closer to a sob than a laugh, Castle looks confused and stricken, wondering what's going on. "Hey, hey," he soothes, reaching out for Beckett's hand and tugging her toward the hospital bed. "I know it was one of my weaker jokes, but it wasn't _that_ bad," he says as he tugs her close.

Resisting his effort, Beckett tries to pull her hand away while using the other to scrub at her cheeks. "Castle, I didn't save you, I almost killed you!" Realizing that Castle wasn't willing to let go and that he was likely hurting himself in his attempt to calm her, Beckett stops pulling away and lets Castle draw her into a hug instead, ending up halfway onto his hospital bed.

"Rick, I talked to Laura about bumping up your meds. You were completely defenseless because of me. You weren't even conscious to brace yourself in the trunk," Beckett laments, running her hand over his face where some bruises are already starting to show.

"Kate, stop," Castle admonishes. "Did I need the medication? Were you acting in my best interest? Would I have done the same for you if our situations were reversed?" he asks while looking intently at her. "Yes, yes, and if I could get away with it," he says to her reluctant chuckle.

"Cooper did this, not you," Castle says while toying with Beckett's hair. "Just, next time you want to drug me, let's do it from the comfort of our own home, okay?"

"'Our own home?'" Beckett replies, noticing Castle's phrasing and prompting an immediate blush.

"Sorry," he stumbles adorably, looking at her in a panic. "I must still be a little groggy."

"Free pass," Beckett says as she caresses one cheek and delivers a kiss to the other. Then, fully moving onto the bed and curling into his side, she continues. "Besides, neither of us has a place right now – with the commotion of your kidnapping, I haven't heard whether Jordan's teams have swept our places or caught any watchers. Once we have homes again, we can think about next steps."

"So, let's go talk to her," Castle says as he starts to sit up, resisting Beckett's efforts to hold him back.

"Rick, you need to rest," Beckett says, but she already recognizes the stubborn look Castle's developing.

"No way," Castle objects, sitting up and moving his legs off the bed while adopting a more serious demeanor. "Everything is happening now and we've worked too damned hard to sit on the sidelines. Bracken must've scheduled a press conference by now, right? There's no way I'm missing that. Besides, I don't much feel like being a sitting duck."

Recognizing the futility of fighting him on this, Beckett relents. After all, she's no more interested in being a spectator now than is Castle. "Okay, Rick. Let me go scare up a nurse and we'll get you signed out," she says as she stands and moves towards the door. Before she can reach it, however, the door opens and Jordan Shaw enters.

"Thinking about making a break for it?" Shaw says with a smile. "I'm not surprised. I've asked the medical staff to give us a little privacy while I bring you up to speed, then the three of us will leave. Well, the three of us with a healthy security team," she says with a smile.

"Okay, so here's the score," Shaw continues, shifting into business mode. "We've raided all three of the funding sources your friend identified," she says, looking at Castle. "Riley resisted, but we've got that contained and are processing the scene now. Nyguen more or less cooperated and we've got a team working through the material secured there right now. We've not yet found where Simmons went to ground, but he cleaned well before he ran. I suspect that he was preparing for this before the _Access New York_ event, but I'm not sure what that means," Shaw says with a frown.

Castle looks like he's about to interrupt, but he reigns himself in, which Shaw visibly appreciates. "Your homes are both safe, now. Each had been rigged with incendiary devices. We apprehended a surveillance team watching Castle's loft – two more ex-military personnel who served with Crawford. As for you, Kate," Shaw says while she turns to Beckett, "we didn't find a surveillance team, but we're checking likely locations under the theory that Crawford and his driver were watching your place until Cooper called for assistance. As for Cooper himself, he's in a room a few floors down and might be the only person in this place with more protection than Castle."

"It's got to be close to falling apart now," Beckett interjects. "We've got so much to work with – the file, the mayor, and practically a full squad from Vantus," Beckett begins.

"And dirty FBI and NYPD officers," Shaw continues, "along with a few chiefs of staff. Yes, we've got to be hitting critical mass. Bracken's got to be nervous now. We'll see what kind of tap dancer he is at his press conference tonight. Get this," Shaw continues, "he's scheduled it for the steps of the federal courthouse. Full regalia, full media press. It'll be quite a show."

"But outside," Beckett replies, prompting a sad nod from Jordan. "Yes, it's a mess," Shaw agrees. "We're working with the Commissioner to get security in place. The 12th's out of that one – it's not in your jurisdiction and there's just too much going on without bringing in others. But, speaking of security, I don't want either of you in the open at the conference."

"No way," Beckett says flatly. "I've – we've worked too many years to miss this. He's going to drown beneath the weight of his sins tonight, and I want him to see us watching every of one of his flailing attempts to save himself as the water closes over his head." Though he's not said a word, Castle reaches over to clasp Beckett's hand and provide a unified front for this battle.

Shaw assesses both of them silently for a few moments. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we'll figure something out. But just the two of you! Your dad and Castle's family can watch from the safe-house."

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Wednesday ~6:15 PM**

"All this waiting around is driving me crazy," Castle sighs from his seat next to Beckett's desk. They should be poring over the file that Rutherford provided or the material secured in today's raids, but they're increasingly distracted by the approach of Bracken's press conference. "I'll go see what Jordan is up to."

"You most certainly will not," Beckett objects, finally looking up from her computer screen. "A, Jordan is busy running the entirety of this case. B, if you think I'm letting you out of my sight after what happened earlier today, you're crazy."

"So, this is what finally does it?" Castle jokes, anxious to find a laugh to deal with the stress of the day. "Of all the times you've thought I was crazy, this is the pinnacle?"

"Castle, you know that I'm a cop, obsessed with building a proper case. I've accused you of being crazy many, many times," Beckett says with a twinkle in her eye. "but now I have proof."

"It was Burke, wasn't it?" Castle laments. "I _knew_ that guy would sell me out. He looks shifty."

"He does not!" Beckett laughs in response, happy to be playful. "Besides, I'm using your own test to define crazy."

"What test is that?" Castle asks, genuinely interested in her response.

"Well," Beckett whispers, looking around before leaning closer to Castle and drawing him in, "the sex is _unbelievable_."

As if scripted in one of Martha's plays, Jordan Shaw arrives at that moment, with Avery and two other feds trailing in her wake.

"What's with him?" Shaw asks a grinning Beckett, nodding at Castle's shocked but smug expression.

"Daydreaming again, thanks to his pain meds," Beckett dismisses. "What's up?"

Raising a brow to let Beckett know that she didn't buy the explanation, Shaw gets on to business. "We're heading out to get things in position for Bracken's press conference. You two _stay here_. Gates has a team detailed to bring you to the site at 7:00. You'll stay in the vehicle and get out just in time for the event, and we'll have a protected alcove set up just behind the press corps."

"Thank you, Jordan," Castle offers now that he's returned to the present. "We appreciate the extra effort."

Shaw nods and turns in place, signaling to her team that it's time to move. "We're almost there," she says in a soft voice for the two of them. "We've got no warrant for him yet, but I'd bet that will change by this time tomorrow, maybe even by morning. We're almost there, Kate."

It's a position that Beckett cannot believe she finds herself in. For so long, her quest seemed impossible. Then, after years of frustration and oppressive failure, Castle's revelation made the quest seem laughable. But here they are, perched on the edge of the end. She doesn't want to make any assumptions, but for the first time in her adult life, Beckett's letting herself flirt with ideas of _after_. What will life be like _after_ her mother's killer meets justice?

"Thank you," Beckett says while looking up at Shaw, eyes glassy but tears contained. Shaw gives a knowing smile and quick nod, then turns to catch up to her team.

"Thank you," Beckett repeats, this time to Castle as she clasps his hand quickly. Smart enough to not draw attention to the brief PDA in the precinct, Castle simply smiles at Beckett, letting the peace of the moment flow.

* * *

**NYPD SUV en route to federal courthouse, New York City, ~7:10**

Wearing vests (all of which say "Police," even Castle's), all of the passengers in the SUV are slightly uncomfortable, shifting in place to find a better way to ride with armor already on. But, like the four-member NYPD escort team, this was a condition of Shaw's – no inopportune moments outside the vehicle while protection was donned. Instead, Beckett and Castle will arrive at the press conference site in about 10 minutes fully prepared.

Both Beckett and Castle are nervous and both address it in their usual ways. Beckett is outwardly calm, marshalling her resources and resolve in anticipation of what the next two hours will bring. Castle, on the other hand, can't stop moving. His leg is bouncing, he's constantly shifting in place, and if there's anywhere in the back of the SUV that doesn't bear his fingerprints, it's only because his left arm is secured in a sling.

Castle jolts slightly as his phone makes an odd chirp. Frowning, he pulls it out and checks the screen. Beckett knows something's up when his eyebrows skyrocket. He hands her his phone while he reaches into his other pocket to pull out one of the pre-paid cells they purchased after Britton's visit this morning.

**Call me from safe phone within two minutes **Beckett reads the text, not recognizing the number from which the text arrived.

Looking at Castle she gets a shrug in response, signaling that he doesn't recognize the number, either. Wary of their four NYPD escorts, Castle's also withdrawn some ubiquitous white Apple headphones that he plugs into the burner, offering one earbud to Beckett. Once in place, he dials the number from the text.

"_Don't say my name,"_ is the first thing they hear from ex-FBI agent Danielle Britton.

"Okay," Castle replies. "What's wrong? Do you need help?" he asks and Beckett nearly loses her earbud when she shakes her head. Sure, Castle, she thinks, offer to abet a disgraced agent and likely felon while sharing the phone line with a cop and riding in a vehicle full of cops.

Britton actually laughs at Castle's offer. _"No, I'm good. But you're not. The press conference is a ruse, a misdirection. Bracken's running. Here's the address,"_ she says as she rattles off an address in New Jersey. Seeing Beckett pull out a notebook, Castle asks for the address again, and receives coordinates as well as the street address. _"It's a small airfield,"_ Britton explains. _"He's on his way there now – they did a shell game with his car service, so his escort thinks he's in the vehicle on its way to the press conference. If you hurry, you might catch him,"_ Britton says, and from the tone of her voice, she's preparing to end the call. _"Good luck,"_ she says. _"Run, Castle, run."_

* * *

.

A/N: Sorry I'm late on this posting – we hosted a marketing event in NYC this week and that put me behind schedule. I didn't get to visit any Castle landmarks, but I did have a nice walk on the High Line. And another apology – this chapter didn't make it to the conclusion, so there'll be one chapter remaining, then an epilogue. As long as I don't get in trouble for bringing out the laptop while we're at the beach, those should arrive as usually scheduled, or close.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below.

.

_Britton actually laughs at Castle's offer. "No, I'm good. But you're not. The press conference is a ruse, a misdirection. Bracken's running. Here's the address," she says as she rattles off an address in New Jersey. Seeing Beckett pull out a notebook, Castle asks for the address again, and receives coordinates as well as the street address. "It's a small airfield," Britton explains. "He's on his way there now – they did a shell game with his car service, so his escort thinks he's in the vehicle on its way to the press conference. If you hurry, you might catch him," Britton says, and from the tone of her voice, she's preparing to end the call. "Good luck," she says. "Run, Castle, run."_

* * *

**NYPD SUV en route to federal courthouse, New York City, Wednesday ~7:15 PM**

"Beth, it's Rick. Will you put me through to Jordan? It's an emergency," Castle explains quickly. Beckett, meanwhile, is unsurprised to realize that Castle's on a first-name basis with yet another attractive FBI agent in Beth Hovannes.

Before she can make any comment or plant an elbow in his side, Castle calls out a new destination to the driver, redirecting them to the nearest heliport. After some hemming and hawing which Beckett overrides by telling the officer at the wheel to either change course or to stop the damn vehicle, the whirs and clicks of the phone line give way to a terse "Agent Shaw."

"Jordan, it's Rick, and I've got Beckett here, too. The person with whom I danced this morning just told us that the press conference is a sham, that he's doing a runner," Castle explains tersely.

To her credit, there's virtually no delay before Shaw is processing the implications and limitations. "What are the odds that this is legitimate?" she asks.

After a brief glimpse at each other during which they draw cord connecting their shared ear-buds taut, Beckett nods at Castle to answer. "Personally, I think this is solid. I think she was offering this as a … an apology for this morning's dust-up," Castle says. Beckett's convinced that he was about to say 'as a favor for not chasing after her immediately'; if so, she's glad that he adjusted his answer before speaking. "But," Castle continues, "you might want to think of it as 70-30 in favor of being legit."

"I can't shut things down here – the risk is just too great, plus it would be conspicuous if we noticeably pulled out early and then he didn't show," Shaw replies. "But, I can send a team to meet you. Where do you think he's going?"

"We've got the address of a small airfield and are about to head there ourselves," Beckett answers. "Provided by the same source."

"How are you getting there? Is he there already?" Shaw asks, trying to work out the timetable.

"We think he left as if going to the press conference and then pulled a switch. So, we've got a little time while he makes his way there. We're going to catch a ride with a friend in a helicopter, see if we can't gain some time," Castle says while Beckett shoots him an inquiring glance to get some information on this 'friend.'

"I'll get Avery rolling now, see if he can't commandeer a chopper to get out there, perhaps even with some paperwork," Shaw promises. "But Castle, you might be on your own for a little while. Slow him down if you can, don't do anything stupid. You know what to do if the circumstance is right."

Wondering about that last comment, Beckett's caught off guard when Castle continues. "Jordan, I have a crazy idea." He rolls his eyes when both Beckett and Shaw chuff at the same time, as if in unspoken agreement that he'd have any other kind of idea. "Paula said she'll attend the press conference. You might want to pull her in, have her get you ready. If Bracken's not going to use the podium, you should. After all, the press will be assembled and looking for a story. If he _is_ running, then the extra coverage should make it that much easier to find him."

"I'll think about it," Shaw manages to reply. She sounds uncomfortable, Beckett thinks, not sure if Jordan's worried about the approvals she'd need to get, being the public face of the FBI investigation, or something else.

When the call ends, Castle pulls out his regular phone. Scrolling through to locate a number, he dials it into the burner phone. Still wearing an earbud, Beckett figures she'll know who they're calling soon enough.

"Brown," a female voice answers after two rings. "Karen, it's Rick Castle," he says. "Do you have access to a news chopper, or someone who does?"

"Well, being a _newspaper_, the _Ledger_ doesn't do a lot of flying around," Brown says as if explaining a simple concept to a simpler person. "But, we do have a time-share agreement with other media outlets. Why do you ask, Rick? What kind of trouble are you in now?"

"Karen, if you can get to the heliport in 15 minutes and get my partner and I up in the chopper, I can promise you an exclusive on a story that'll put a cherry on the _Access New York_ sundae," Castle tempts.

"Rick," Karen replies in an aggrieved tone, "you know full well that I'm at Bracken's press conference. I've got to be here when he addresses the allegations I helped articulate."

"And what if he's not planning to show? What if he's lured all the media and attention to one place so that he can slip away?" Castle probes.

"You know this is the case?" Brown fires back, testing. "How could you know?"

"_I've _got a source," Castle chuckles, happy to say that to a member of the press. "A source I trust. We're going to cut Bracken off if we can. If you give us a ride, you'll be there to see it go down."

"And if he's not there, I look like a laughingstock and probably lose my job," Brown replies archly.

"Please," Castle scoffs, "as if you've survived in this business for twenty years without taking risks. When have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Actually …," Brown starts to reply.

"I mean lately!" Castle clarifies. "When have I steered you wrong _lately_? And don't forget who got you into _Access New York_ in the first place." After a short pause, Castle pushes: "So, are you in? If not, I need to try someone else."

"You ass, I'm already in the car with my camera man. I'll be there in about 10 minutes," Brown says with a laugh. "It's a small chopper, Rick, so you and your partner are the limit. And I might just have to sit in your lap to save space," she says with another laugh, then disconnects.

Looking at Castle with an arched eyebrow, Beckett provokes an immediate confession. "No, never!" Castle avers. "Just flirting, nothing else. We go back a long way – people forget that she got started in entertainment news before she went big time."

Still giving him a pointed look just to make him sweat a little, Beckett notices that the hint of a bruise from his wild ride through the city in Cooper's trunk is blossoming, already spread across most of his cheekbone on the right side of his face. He's got a scrape to his chin on the left side, and of course his left arm is still in a sling. If this case gets any rougher, she thinks ruefully, they'll look more like zombies than walking wounded. Somehow, she thinks this is one of the times when Castle won't think zombies are quite so cool.

"Am I still in the doghouse or can I make a suggestion?" Castle asks with a playful grin.

"Those aren't mutually exclusive, Castle," Beckett fake growls. "What's your suggestion?"

"Do you think Gates could have local law enforcement meet us near the airport?" Castle asks after letting the grin slip from his face. "I'm not sure about the wisdom of approaching the scene with a civilian pilot."

"Are you worried about Bracken reacting violently?" Beckett asks with a speculative look, "I guess I can see that. He's probably traveling light right now, but we might've pushed him so hard that he'll risk acting himself. Unless you think Vantus is still helping him?"

"Wrong V," Castle answers while shaking his head. "Larson and Truitt said that Crawford went rogue from Vantus, was operating on his own. Even if that's not true, they won't risk their company any further after you nailed Crawford," Castle says while gazing at her proudly. "There are other firms like Vantus that I suppose he could have called, but I don't think they'd cooperate now. No, I'm worried about Vulcan Simmons. He's in the wind and it makes me wonder if he wasn't part of Bracken's escape plan."

"So, what? You, me, a reporter, a camera man, and a couple local cops are going to take down a senator protected by a mobster's crew?" Beckett says in attempt to joke, but the scope of the potential task is daunting.

"I might be wrong about Simmons," Castle replies with a shrug of his right shoulder – he's finally learning not to move the left. "And besides, our job is to keep Bracken on the ground until the cavalry arrives. No sweat."

"Rick, what if this is a trap?" Beckett asks. "What if he's clearing out and this is his parting shot – a chance to punish us on his way out?"

With a large sigh, Castle nods his head. "It might be. I don't think Dani would be in on it, not after having us and then letting us go. But he might be using her to lure us in. Having the press there is the only insurance policy I can think of, short of rolling up with 16 vehicles filled with SWAT and HRT personnel."

Reaching out to take her hand, Castle pulls back when he remembers that he's in a vehicle full of unknown cops, but Beckett gives him a soft smile to let him know that she appreciates both the gesture and his restraint. "We'll be cautious, and we can scrap the trip if you think it's too dangerous," Castle says. "I think it's worth the risk for the chance to finally have him in hand."

Nodding, Beckett agrees. "We'll be careful, but this might be our best shot at him if he really is running. Just, please … be careful? None of this is worth anything if you're not there at the end," she says, wanting him to know that if she had to choose between justice for her mother and safety for Castle, she'd pick him.

The effort required to keep himself from reaching out is visible, and not just to someone who knows him well. Instead, Castle takes a deep breath and holds it for a few moments. Then, as he so often does, he turns to levity. "You're just imagining all the paperwork that'll come with closing a case that's gone on for more than a decade, and all the coffee you'll need me to deliver. Besides, Beckett, I'm with you past the end of the road. So let's go bag Bracken."

More than willing to share his optimism, Beckett signals Castle to call Gates.

* * *

**Midtown Heliport, New York City, Wednesday ~7:45 PM**

"Ma'am," Beckett hears to her left, turning to see one of the NYPD officers Gates had assigned to escort them to the press conference. "I couldn't help but overhear some of your conversation. Take these," he says while stepping close to obscure the transfer of weapons and ammunition. While closing the gap made it more difficult for observers to notice the transfer, encroaching on Beckett's personal space proves to be a guaranteed way of catching Castle's attention.

As Castle's hackles rise and he prepares to approach, Beckett signals to him that all is well. Instead of approaching them, Castle moves to speak with the chopper's pilot, who is overseeing the last of the flight arrangements. Initially unhappy with his job for the evening, the pilot has warmed to the intrigue.

Beckett approaches the conversation between Castle and the pilot in time to hear Castle say "No, you don't get a gun or a vest. We're wearing the armor as a precautionary measure, but we're going to have you set us down about a mile from the airport, where local law enforcement will meet us. We'll need you ready to move – we might need to make a quick escape, to follow someone on the ground, or something else."

"Like knocking another bird out of the sky?" the pilot asks excitedly, prompting Beckett to wonder what kind of suicidal maniac is going to fly them out to intercept Bracken. Apparently, Castle agrees and tries to tone down the pilot's exuberance.

"Look, John," Castle says as he puts his right hand on the pilot's shoulder. "In the last few days I've been shot, tortured, tied up, beaten, drugged, kidnapped, and tossed around a car trunk during a high-speed chase and collision. I'm _really_ hoping that our flight will be uneventful," he concludes while giving John's shoulder a brotherly slap. Unfortunately, Castle's recitations of his recent abuse only seems to enflame the imagination of a pilot who's clearly seen too many action movies. He's also looking at Castle in a way that makes Beckett wonder if she should be more watchful of him than of Karen Brown.

She revises that opinion in less than a minute after Brown actually does move to sit in Castle's lap despite his body armor and shoulder injury as they board the helicopter. Beckett doesn't need to say a word, though – one glimpse of Beckett's face has Brown retreating quickly to the other side of the chopper. While the engines spool up, Castle leans over and speaks into her ear "I was wrong with what I said at the beach – Alexis has a long way to go before she can match your scathing look."

While she can still be heard, Beckett turns to Castle and speaks into his ear in return. "Rick, in the last few days you've shacked up with Jordan, gone a round and been tied up, caressed, and kissed by Britton, been propositioned by Brown, and been ogled by Paula and several FBI officers. I've never been the jealous one in a relationship and I'm trying to deal with it. So be nice to me," she finishes with a small nip to his earlobe.

It's getting very difficult to hear inside the chopper and there weren't enough headphones to go around, so Castle turns quickly to get in the last word, speaking loudly to make sure that he's heard. "Kate, just think about this while we fly. You know me. You know my ego. What does it say about my interest in you that I didn't even notice the ogling you're talking about? I think it's cute that you're jealous, but you have to know that you have no reason to be. I love _you_, have done for years, and will do for all that I have left," he concludes earnestly, forgoing a return nip to instead place a gentle, lingering kiss on her temple.

Only after she reaches out to take his hand does Beckett remember that they're sitting across from a member of the press in a very cramped space. Rather than think about the possible implications of being outed, she refocuses her attention on the upcoming confrontation with Bracken. Closing her eyes to think about what might soon happen, she still doesn't relinquish her hold on Castle's hand.

* * *

**Country road, Wednesday, ~8:05 PM**

Beckett's dialing the burner phone as soon as the chopper sets down in the field next to a dirt road on which two sheriff's cars wait with lights flashing. After going through Beth Hovannes, she's connected to Jordan Shaw.

"Has Bracken shown up?" Beckett asks, trying to determine whether their rough flight out to New Jersey was worth the pain that it clearly caused Castle.

"No. The word from his camp is that he's running late," Shaw reports. "I'm … thinking I'll go up there is he's a no show by 8:15 or 8:30, although Paula's running around setting something up. What's your situation?"

"We're on the ground about two miles from the airport," Beckett replies while watching Castle round up the four members of local law enforcement. They are grudgingly moving to the trunks of their cars to suit up – Beckett can't tell if the reluctance is due to the potential gravity of the situation or resentment at being shepherded by an outsider. "As soon as we get our four-member contingent of local law enforcement prepped, we'll roll. Where's Avery?"

"He had a little wait at the heliport," Shaw sighs. "He's straightened out now, but he's probably 20 minutes behind you. If Bracken's there and you can hold him, do it. But if it looks dangerous, just let him go. We tracked him down once and we can find him again."

"Sure, Jordan," Beckett replies quickly. Too quickly for Shaw's tastes.

"Kate, I mean it," Shaw remonstrates. "He's not worth it. You've got many reasons to be careful, not least of which is there with you."

"I know, Jordan," Beckett soothes. "I'm sorry if I sounded abrupt, but you don't need to worry – my priorities are where they should be."

"I hope so, Kate," Shaw replies. "We're there to give justice to the dead, not swell their numbers. Be careful and keep me posted."

Ringing off, Beckett approaches the deputies' cars, where everyone except Castle has congregated. Looking off to the side, she notices that Castle's just finished up his own call. Looking up in time to catch her eyes, he gives her signal that diverts Beckett to his side. Meeting her several yards away from the group, he whispers "So, I had an idea about how to approach…."

After she and Castle work out a plan, Beckett delivers a concise briefing to the group. Eight of them split into two cars with deputies up front, Beckett and Castle in back of the lead car, and the press in the back of the other. Poor John, the gung-ho chopper pilot, is left behind hoping that something goes wrong so that he can swoop in for a dramatic rescue.

It takes more than five minutes to cover the two miles to the airport, both because they're using a rural country road and because they're running without lights in order to get close without announcing their presence. As they approach the airfield, Beckett calls for a halt so that they can survey the scene. While no one is visible, the black sedan parked outside an old Quonset-style hangar suggests that Bracken has arrived and is inside. So much for their hopes of cutting him off before he reaches the hangar. And so much for getting a count of the people with Bracken or figuring out if Vulcan Simmons is around.

Eschewing the radios again in case they're being monitored, Beckett uses the burner phone to call the camera man's phone. With both on speaker, the two cars coordinate as they inch into the facility until they are about a hundred yards away from the hangar where the sedan is parked, obscured by the neighboring hangar.

"Okay, just like we talked about," Beckett announces over the line. "Karen, Tony, are you ready?" Beckett asks the reporter and her camera man.

* * *

**Rural airport, New Jersey, Wednesday, ~8:30 PM**

"Good evening, this is Karen Brown reporting from an airfield in rural New Jersey, where we hope to interview New York's junior senator William Bracken to follow up on the questions that have lingered since his appearance on _Access New York_ yesterday. While Senator Bracken had announced a press conference for 8:00 tonight, it was delayed unexpectedly. The reason for that 'delay' and the Senator's presence at this airport are among the questions we're hoping to ask as we follow local and NYPD law enforcement."

Flanked by officers and Castle, the group starts walking toward the targeted hangar. The lights from Tony's camera rig have caught the attention of someone standing outside, who darts into the hangar through a conventional-sized doorway on the side. Only seconds later, the main door of the hangar begins to slowly retract.

"Here we go," Beckett says quietly. "Please stay behind us and be ready to depart if need be," she continues, still wondering about the audacity of this plan. Trusting that the presence of the media will inhibit outright aggression by Bracken, the plan is ultimately a delaying tactic. The hope is that the presence of the camera will either keep Bracken in the hangar or will engage him in an impromptu interview/press conference that will buy time for Avery and the cavalry to arrive.

A private jet becomes visible through the widening gap in the hangar doors. The good news is that the door is down and the engines are off. The bad news is that there are several people scurrying around the plane preparing it for imminent departure.

"Excuse me," says a fastidious man in a suit who has stepped into the gap of the hangar doors. He's nearly shouting to be heard over the doors and Beckett immediately pegs him as an attorney. Looks like Bracken has his own stalling techniques.

"Excuse me, but this is private property. Unless you have a warrant, you're trespassing," the man says as he stalks towards the group, unaffected by the cameras.

"Not so," Beckett replies. "This airfield is owned by a group of private investors, including Vantus Ventures. We were invited to the field by Steven Larson and Jackson Truitt. I have their email if you'd like to read it; they are also both standing by to speak with you if there are any questions about the authenticity of the email," Beckett concludes, keeping her voice cool and professional. This was the first of Castle's calls after landing near the airfield. After Crawford's actions (sanctioned or not), the Vantus leadership was happy to jump at Castle's offered opportunity to salvage some of their reputation.

Clearly unhappy with this news, the attorney still tries to slow them down. "Yes, I would like to see the email and speak with the people you mentioned. Of course, I'll also need to confirm their company's ownership stake in this airfield."

Beckett's group doesn't break stride. "Deputy Larson has a phone with the email and the number ready to dial. You are welcome to confirm whatever you like, but we're not waiting," Beckett says in her best bad-ass voice. Castle, trying to remain unobtrusive especially with the camera behind them, can't help but smile as his partner takes control.

Flummoxed, the attorney is torn between checking their permission and staying in front of the group to invent other ways to slow them down. Improbably, it's Brown who solves his dilemma when she approaches him directly and says, "Hello, I'm afraid we didn't catch your name. Would you like to introduce yourself?" With a look for the camera that's equal parts annoyance and fear, the attorney spins on his heel and runs back into the hangar, with Beckett's group walking briskly behind him.

The time required to deal with the attorney, while minimal, was still enough to allow for the hangar doors to fully retract. Glancing ahead at the illuminated hangar, it's clear that the plane is nearly ready to fly, but still won't be ready to move until Beckett's group reaches the hangar doors. And while the Vantus invitation got them onto the airfield, it won't cover access into the hangar.

This time it's the man of the hour who steps into the gap of the hangar doors. Bracken is all smiles for the camera, but Beckett notices that he's careful to stay within the confines of the hangar.

"Good evening, Karen," Bracken says with a wide smile, looking to all the world like this was a meeting he expected. "You must not have heard, but an emergency in DC forced me to cancel tonight's press conference. I look forward to continuing our discussion upon my return."

"But senator," Brown replies, "Congress is in recess."

"True, true," Bracken notes, "but affairs of state don't constrain themselves to business hours, I'm afraid. It's just the way real life works, especially in DC."

"I'm confused, Senator," Brown continues, following the line of discussion worked out quickly with Castle and Beckett. "If you were heading for DC, why aren't you taking the flights you usually use, even during emergencies, and why hasn't a flight plan been filed for this plane?" Brown delivers these questions like a pro, disguising that it's all wild conjecture boiled up in the last 15 minutes as events have outpaced the team's ability to run things down.

"Karen, as much as I enjoy our chats," Bracken says with an admirably straight face, "I'm afraid that there are urgent matters to which I must attend. Perhaps we'll speak when I'm back in New York."

"I'm afraid the we have some questions, too, Senator," Beckett interjects, desperate to keep Bracken talking or to taunt him into doing something that will allow her to act more directly.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but you'll have to wait, too," Bracken says with a smile. "After all, it wouldn't be fair to give preferential treatment to the police, would it?"

"Cute, Senator," Beckett replies brusquely, risking more direct antagonism to delay Bracken. "But hardly a fair and considered answer worthy of your constituency. I'm sure that they also find it odd that you're jetting off to address a supposed emergency while running away from several open investigations."

"I'll enjoy my attorney's efforts to address your behavior and insinuations, Detective," Bracken growls as he turns to head to the plane's open door. "Now, deputy, do you have any reason to detain me?" He asks, looking at the others with Beckett, one of whom shakes his head. "Detective, you have neither jurisdiction nor warrant. We're done here."

Bracken looks hazy as he turns and starts walking toward the plane. This confuses Beckett until she realizes that she's so frustrated that she's tearing up. Her hand twitches at her side, anxious to pull her weapon to prevent the flight of her mother's killer. It's a losing battle, as she feels the grip of her sidearm in her palm.

"Hey," Castle says from her right, catching her attention. "We're okay. I'm sorry about this – I'll explain later."

Castle draws his borrowed sidearm with his right hand, nodding for Beckett to do the same. Then, struggling to remove his left arm from his sling, Castle winces as he reaches into his pocket and withdraws a badge. Taking a deep breath he gives Beckett a quick wink then turns to face Bracken's retreating form. "Federal Officer!" he shouts. "Freeze!"

Bracken freezes, more out of shock than in following Castle's shout. It's not a unique reaction, as Karen Brown looks on in silence rather than narrating the scene. Beckett's training keeps her focused on Bracken, though her mind is running amok. Castle's got some serious explaining to do, she thinks.

Bracken slowly spins in position, keeping quiet but sizing Castle up. "William Bracken, you're detained on suspicion of racketeering. Please place your hands behind your head and lace your fingers together."

Bracken doesn't comply. Instead, he sneers "_Racketeering?_"

"For a start," Castle replies. "I'm certain that other charges, from other jurisdictions," he says with a quick glance at Beckett, "are forthcoming. Now, please turn around and lace your fingers behind your head."

Again, Bracken refuses to comply as he and Castle stare at each other. As the tension and silence draw out, Beckett breaks her view from the two of them to survey the area around them. It's an instinct that saves their lives.

"Scatter!" Beckett yells just as Vulcan Simmons appears in the door of the airplane, semiautomatic rifle held at his hip. Castle moves right, grabbing Karen Brown with his left hand as he runs to the shelter of the retracted hangar door, bellowing in reaction to the stress on his injured shoulder. Beckett dodges left, also moving to shelter behind the hangar door, yelling at the deputies to "Move!"

Simmons sprays the tarmac, weapon tracking Castle. One deputy goes down with a scream, but the weapon's tracking is either too slow or Simmons' aim too inaccurate to catch him before he reaches the shelter of the retracted door. Thank god for idiots, Beckett thinks as she notes how Simmons is holding the weapon. If he'd bothered to aim, they might all be lying on the tarmac bleeding out.

As the deputies return fire and force Simmons back into the plane, Beckett takes a quick look around. Two of the people who had been checking out the plane have weapons in hand and have taken defensive positions in the hangar. The wounded deputy is dragging himself across the tarmac with his forearms, his leg leaving a streak of blood behind him. Looking across to the other side of the door, Beckett breathes again when she sees Castle hunkered down behind the door, visibly panting but with weapon still in hand. Almost impossibly, the media have backed off but are still filming. Tony films while Karen is speaking, the hangar clearly visible over her shoulder. But where is Bracken?

The temporary respite ends with gunfire, the two helpers having coordinated with Simmons. They concentrate on Castle's side of the hangar, apparently interested in either taking out Castle or the news team. Either their weapons are even more lethal than standard or the hangar's doors offer poorer protection than expected, but the effect is the same as the rounds fired by Simmons and his henchman punch through wall and door alike.

Just as Beckett's preparing to fire, the black sedan that initially attracted their interest squeals away in reverse, heedless of direction while just trying to get away. Visible in the driver's seat is New York's junior senator.

The car careens to a stop as Bracken shifts into forward and aims the vehicle at the airfield's exit. With her back to the hangar's wall, Castle is pinned down to her left while Bracken is making his escape to Beckett's right.

Just as Alexander Rodgers might have written, Beckett has an epiphany while pressed against the hut, seeing two competing paths for her future stretching out before her, one moving in each direction. Like Charlie Stevens, the hapless priest in Castle's novel, Beckett releases all pretenses and burdens, the expectations of others or those she's placed on herself, and turns to embrace one path irrevocably.

Unlike Charlie Stevens, there is no ambiguity about Beckett's choice. Weapon extended and blazing, it's her third shot that finds its target, catching Vulcan Simmons high in the torso. As he pitches forward and tumbles down the plane's boarding stairs, he draws the attention of one of his two helpers, whose distraction ends his life with the arrival of a bullet fired by one of the deputies. Seeing his two comrades down, the last hold-out tosses down his weapon and raises his hands. As the deputies move in to make the arrest and secure the hangar, Beckett turns and feels her heart stop as she sees Castle face-down on the tarmac.

She's kneeling beside him before she realizes she's moved. Now that she's here, she's terrified of what she might find. Gently, she reaches out to touch him, looking for injuries. It's not until Beckett rolls him onto his side and sees the deformed bullet wedged into his vest that she understands what's happened. Overcome by relief she can't stop herself from hugging him, which rouses him quickly and painfully.

"Ow," says her wordsmith, not quite living up to his usual standards.

"Oh, Rick," Beckett says, trying to hold herself together. "Don't you ever, ever scare me like that again, _Agent Castle_," driving home those last two words.

"It's Inspector, actually," Castle wheezes out as he struggles to sit up. "Probationary Inspector, recipient of an impromptu field commission last night, when Jordan and I couldn't make it to the safe-house. I was supposed to keep it low key until a formal ceremony if possible, and to act within guidelines," Castle winces, either in pain from his injuries or at the thought of something constraining his behavior. "That's why I wasn't supposed to fire my weapon."

"Or make an arrest?" Beckett says, returning their conversation from months ago.

"Technically, I said I was 'detaining' him," Castle says with a grin. "Just until Avery arrived to arrest him, but he didn't need to know that."

Hearing sirens, Beckett presses on Castle's good shoulder to prevent him from trying to get up. "Just wait, Rick, help is on the way. You need to get checked out, both your new injuries and old."

Castle must be exhausted and hurting, because he listens without complaint or objection. Resting his head against the wall against which he sits, Castle turns to her and asks "What about Bracken – did you get him?"

Shaking her head while caressing his jaw, Beckett answers softly. "No, I didn't get him. This time. We're living to fight another day, right Castle?"

"I'm sorry, Kate," Castle says slowly, his head hanging.

"I'm not," Beckett replies quickly and with conviction. "I had a shot at him Castle, but I made my choice," she says as she takes his hand. "I made my choice," she repeats with a smile as she brings his hand to her lips.

They are still sitting there when the vehicles approach, led by an ambulance. It's not the EMTs that reach them first, but instead Karen Brown. Leaving her camera man Tony to film some shots of the deputies, the plane, and the EMTs attending to Simmons, Brown approaches Beckett and Castle.

"Everyone okay here?" she asks. "You had me worried, Rick. We've got you getting shot on camera. Your fans are going to be in hysterics. You'd better have Paula put out a statement tonight."

"What do you mean?" Beckett asks. "You were broadcasting, not recording?"

"Better," Brown says with a devilish smile. "With Paula's help, we broadcasted the whole thing to the press conference that Bracken set up. So, not only do we have all of our original content, but we've got the reactions of those who attended the press conference. They saw you, Detective, ask Bracken why he was running away. They saw you, _Federal Officer_," she says with a raised brow at Castle "try to detain Bracken for questions about racketeering. They saw Bracken refuse your instruction, and the arrival of the gunmen. They saw Castle get shot. And then," she says, drawing out the story, "they saw Bracken run, until he was stopped before he could leave the airfield by the FBI agents who arrived with a warrant in hand."

* * *

.

A/N: Another late posting. Sorry – a work deadline, an old college friend's wedding, and a family vacation this week. As shocking as this sounds, it's a little more difficult to tap away at a laptop while sitting on a beach with a drink in hand.

Just one chapter left! I hope to finish it while on vacation, but in the worst case it'll be up by next Wednesday. If you've made it this far, just hang on for one more. Many thanks!


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.

N/A: Down below.

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"_What do you mean?" Beckett asks. "You were broadcasting, not recording?"_

"_Better," Brown says with a devilish smile. "With Paula's help, we broadcasted the whole thing to the press conference that Bracken set up. So, not only do we have all of our original content, but we've got the reactions of those who attended the press conference. They saw you, Detective, ask Bracken why he was running away. They saw you, Federal Officer," she says with a raised brow at Castle "try to detain Bracken for questions about racketeering. They saw Bracken refuse your instruction, and the arrival of the gunmen. They saw Castle get shot. And then," she says, drawing out the story, "they saw Bracken run, until he was stopped before he could leave the airfield by the FBI agents who arrived with a warrant in hand."_

* * *

**Rural airport, New Jersey, Wednesday, ~9:30 PM**

"Easy there," Beckett admonishes as the EMTs ram the gurney into the ambulance's bumper in an effort to get the legs to retract. As he's done for most of his recent injuries, Castle remains quiet, but Beckett's getting better at reading him. She sees the pain that he tries to hide – it's only fair, since he's seen hers for years.

Waiting only long enough for the EMT to clamber into the vehicle, Beckett gets on board before the other EMT closes the door and moves toward the driver's seat. Sitting on the other side of him from the technician, Beckett takes Castle's hand and his attention.

"Hey, Beckett?" Castle asks as the EMT goes about his ministrations. "Where's my vest?"

"Don't worry, Castle," Beckett answers, knowing why he asked. "I left it with Avery – he said that he'd get it back to the precinct. But I kept this for you," she says with a smile while holding up the slug that would've pierced him if not for the armor he wore. Knowing Castle, he'll want it as a grim keepsake, a reminder of how "cool" it was to be shot.

With an embarrassed smile, Castle relaxes a bit on the gurney. "You know me too well, Kate," he says.

"Not yet," Beckett says with her own smile, "but it's good to have goals. I look forward to unraveling the mystery of the mystery writer," she says as she stows the deformed bullet and takes his hand in both of hers.

"Kate?" Castle asks, and this time Beckett doesn't know what his question will be. Raising her eyebrows, Beckett prompts him to continue. "You don't have another nemesis do you? If you do, can we wait a few days before going after him? I need a little break."

"Wimp," Beckett chuckles, prompting an odd look from the EMT who's treating a thoroughly bruised patient for his second gunshot injury. "I suppose we could laze about for a few days, but we'll have to make up for it later."

"Just one night in my own bed," Cast says wistfully, "that's all I need."

"Not tonight, though," Beckett replies. Noting that Castle's about to object, Beckett takes an unusual approach. "Please, Rick? You've pushed yourself so hard. I'm worried about you."

Castle's surprised by her direct request, and he unveils a surprise of his own. "As you wish," he says with a smile and a deep sigh. She knows it's her imagination, but it seems to Beckett that Castle actually sinks further into the gurney as he closes his eyes. As Castle drifts into an exhausted sleep, Beckett realizes that he hasn't even gotten his painkillers yet.

* * *

**St. Luke's Hospital, New Jersey, Thursday, ~8:40 AM**

"Good morning, sunshine," Beckett says as she strolls through the door to his hospital room.

"Kate Beckett, you beautiful angel," Castle welcomes from where he's propped up in bed. Beckett returns his beaming smile, convinced that his welcome isn't _solely_ motivated by the tall cup of coffee that she's got for him.

"How're you feeling?" she asks as she hands him the coffee, kisses his check, then perches on the side of his bed.

"Better, now," he says with an unabashed look at her.

"Sorry I was late," Beckett replies, knowing that she could've been here at 8:00 this morning. After all, he'd actually been able to sneak in early to visit her when their roles were reversed less than a week ago. "I just wanted to see Bracken behind bars with my own eyes," she says with some lingering embarrassment.

"I don't blame you. I hope he looked like hell," Castle says with some heat to his voice.

"I'm sure he's used to nicer accommodations," Beckett replies, but Castle notes the odd tone in her voice, which prompts her to explain. "He said that he was waiting for my visit, was looking forward to us having a little chat."

"Did he threaten you?" Castle asks, guessing the reason for her anxiety.

"Yeah, he did," she acknowledges. "He's no dummy – he's well aware that he was being recorded, so it was all hypothetical. He said '_You've misjudged me, made me into a character from one of your boyfriend's books. The world just doesn't work that way. After all, the kind of monster you've imagined wouldn't be stopped by being in jail, would have friends outside who would be willing to continue the work_,' something like that."

"Here's the thing," Castle says, giving Beckett a look that she doesn't quite recognize. "I can tell that you're unsettled by the conversation, and we'll figure out how to defend against whatever last spasms of vengeance Bracken thinks he can muster. But the kick-ass detective that I know wouldn't have let Bracken see any of that. So tell me, how did you reply?"

Beckett's pleased that Castle knows her this well and is amazed that she doesn't feel exposed by his insight. Unable to hide her smile, Beckett nudges him and explains. "I might've played the hypothetical game with him, might've let him know that cops and prison guards have been known to coordinate in the attentions paid to prisoners who need specialized care," she says around a sip of coffee. "And I might've mentioned that we have friends, too."

"Damn right we do," Castle nods, clasping her hand. "Good ones. Look, I don't want to ignore that he still poses a threat, but I don't want him to be a shadow over us, either. We'll figure something out, but I'm a writer – I'm looking forward to our next chapter. Besides," he says with an evil look, "I think the good soon-to-be-ex-senator might find that even if he has friends on the outside, it's the people who will want to be his 'friends' on the inside who should command his attention."

"Maybe," Beckett replies. "But, about defending against anything that he has in mind, I kind of made a deal," Beckett admits, prompting a raised brow from Castle.

"It's easier than you'd think, isn't it?" Castle asks, and Beckett's glad that this is his only reference to the deal that he'd made with Smith. "So, what deal did you make?"

"Maybe it's more of a threat than a deal," Beckett backtracks. "We've got a strong case against him with the racketeering charges, that's what led to the warrant. Then, there'll be the tax charges that follow from his evasion related to his criminal income and assets. The feds are also looking at domestic terrorism charges, and those can be really nasty. With all those charges, I've decided not to pursue a murder charge for mom."

Beckett pauses to look at Castle, who recognizes that she's laying out a story to convince herself as well as him. So, counter to his usual behavior, he just nods to encourage her to continue.

"There's no statute of limitations on homicide," Beckett explains. "I like the idea of having an ace in hand in case he somehow gets around all the charges that are already pending. And only a small number of us know about his connection to my mother. If we don't file those charges, then he can't claim that the case against him is rigged by a misguided cop looking for revenge. It'll constrain his trial strategy, unless _he_ wants to raise the issue, which would be a pretty unbelievable defense tactic."

"You'd be okay with that – with your mom not ever receiving official vindication?" Casket asks quietly.

"I'm getting there," Beckett admits, still not entirely comfortable with the decision. "But, as much as I want justice for her, I also like the idea of her protecting us. I made it clear that should anything happen to me or those important to me, even more information goes public," Beckett says with a hard look. "And I might have suggested that some of the information in Montgomery's file has been held back as insurance."

"You are _brilliant_," Castle says proudly. "And I think you're right. I never had the honor of meeting your mother, but I'll tell you this as a parent: if I could do anything to protect Alexis after I'm gone, I would take that in a heartbeat over any kind of remembrance or ceremony. Burn my books, erase everything else – if I could make her one bit safer, I would jump at the chance. So, I think the idea of Johanna protecting … _us_," he says in a questioning voice while looking at Beckett and getting an indulgent nod, "… would make her very, very happy."

Beckett can't stand to be apart from him any longer, especially not after that, so she carefully curls into his side for as much as a hug as they can manage while Castle's still in his hospital bed.

"I hope my dad agrees," Beckett says quietly. "I think he will, but we'll need to talk about it, get him comfortable with the idea. I don't want him surprised again the way he was with the _Access New York_ event.

"How's he doing?" Castle asks. "We haven't talked much about him with everything that's happened since we got the file."

"He's okay. I asked Alexis to put him on the phone last night, after you passed out while talking to her," Beckett mentions, remembering the call that she insisted upon once Castle was settled into a room last night. "He's glad Bracken's in custody, but he's still worried. I think he's nervous about holding himself together while the case against Bracken goes forward."

"That's understandable," Castle sympathizes, giving Beckett an extra squeeze. "But he'll have more support this time around. You're an adult now, not a young college student stuck on the other side of the country. And I'll be there to help you both, along with mother. But, we might all be unnecessary. It sounds like Alexis might've adopted your father, in which case he doesn't stand a chance," he finishes with a chuckle.

"She does seem to be taking care of him," Beckett replies, recalling how Alexis anchored her father to the couch on the night of the _Access New York_ interview.

"Trust me – if my daughter raises Jim half as well as his daughter raised me, everything will be alright," Castle says with a sweet, small smile. Humming into his side as she holds him, Beckett's willing to believe in Castle's view of the future.

"You know, Castle, I'm very impressed," Beckett says. "You addressed my conversation with Bracken, pointed us toward a brighter future …"

"Rather than focus on the fact that he called me your '_boyfriend_?'" Castle interrupts with glee.

"Okay, maybe not so impressed," Beckett says flatly, but Castle's smile remains undented.

* * *

**St. Luke's Hospital, New Jersey, Thursday, ~11:40 AM**

A commotion in the hallway captures their attention, Castle looking toward the door from his bed while Beckett starts to rise from her chair. Both were hoping for the arrival of the doctor for Castle's final check before release, but that wouldn't explain the noise.

"Rick," Paula's voice calls from the hallway, "will you control your watchdogs?"

Rolling her eyes as she moves to the door, Beckett pulls it open and waves her through, receiving grateful looks from the guards outside.

"Ricky, you look like shit," Paula greets as she walks up to his hospital bed and tries to find an unbruised area on his face for a greeting kiss. Giving up, she bends close to him, gives a loud air kiss, then stands again,

"But, you do have a flair for the dramatic. Good lord, do you know how to make a scene!" Paula says with appreciation. "The footage of you getting shot is everywhere – it's got more You-Tube hits than anything we've put together for you. Gives me some ideas for your next tour…," she trails off, earning a scowl from Beckett.

"I know you're not into flowers, so here's your get well gift," Paula says as she tosses a white paper bag at Castle. Still unused to his current physical state, Castle moves to catch the bag with both hands and then winces as his shoulder sends a fiery note of disapproval through his system. His arms drop before the bag arrives, so it thwaps against him where his jacket stopped yesterday's bullet, causing another grimace.

Beckett catches the bag as it's about to roll down Castle and onto the floor. Setting it gently on the bed beside him and checking on Castle to make sure he's alright, Beckett's unsurprised to see that Paula's taken her chair during all of the commotion. Meanwhile, Castle's managed to open the bag and the contents have sparked a remarkable smile.

"_Cheeseburgers_," he moans in delight as he pulls one from the bag. He pauses before tearing in, then extends the wrapped burger to Beckett. This must be serious, Beckett thinks, if he's offering me first pick of his cheeseburger bounty. That thought prompts a chuckle that catches Castle's attention. "Tell you later," she says softly as she accepts the burger and perches on the side of his bed.

"Did you release a statement?" Castle asks around a mouthful of bliss.

Rolling her eyes at his manners and his ridiculous question, Paula's happy enough to wade in without chastising him. "Of course I did. It was superb, too – mentioned the case development, your participation, that this was your _second_ gunshot wound this week. Forget being an author – I expect to start fielding calls from Hollywood looking for action hero roles."

"Don't even think about it, _Rick_," Beckett says from her seat next to him, prompting a chuckle from her partner and a pointed look from his agent. "Your book sales are up nearly twenty percent, led by the Heat titles and your earliest work – somehow your recent shenanigans aren't propping Storm up as well," Paula says, looking vexed.

"Has Gina spilled the news about my pen name yet?" Castle asks, surprising Beckett. Turning to her, he explains. "Gina was never going to keep quiet about my novel," Castle says, and Beckett is further surprised that he doesn't sound upset about it. "As soon as it was clear that the novel wasn't a stinker, revealing the news became a matter of _when_, not _if_. That's her job – to maximize sales of my Black Pawn books. With luck, she'll coordinate with Tom so that the publicity helps both of them."

"'Luck' – is that what you're calling me now?" Paula asks acerbically. "I'll steer Paula and Tom straight on this, as I always do," she says, making it sound like the editors couldn't do anything without her oversight. "Maybe a week," Paula speculates. "I'd be surprised if it doesn't go public before next weekend. Too much press attention on the whole 'Gangster Senator' thing."

"Is that what they're calling him?" Beckett asks with a smile.

"Among other things. That's the one that sticks and gets past the network censors," Paula says. "I had much better suggestions, but the prudes at the major networks couldn't unclench long enough to extract their heads and think about them," she grumbles.

"But," Paula says, brightening quickly, "your Fed friend sure did us right with that press conference, didn't she?"

"What press conference?" both Beckett and Castle ask at the same time.

Looking absolutely disgusted, Paula points to the TV mounted in the corner of Castle's hospital room. "You got into a shootout with the pet mobster of an elected official who was trying to skip the country and you didn't bother to watch TV the next morning? What kind of idiots …," she trails off, eyeing the two of them speculatively and then checking out Castle's hospital bed and imagining the possibilities.

"Okay, maybe you had your heads elsewhere," Paula allows with a begrudgingly impressed look. "Well, your cute Fed friend held a press conference this morning to explain the footage that Karen Brown's bosses sold to the networks. And this wasn't like the Cartwright thing either – you were 'central to the investigation,' were 'responsible for obtaining key evidence against the senator, including the information that allowed agents to secure the warrant,' and 'acted in the name of justice despite great personal risk,'" Paula crows. "I especially liked that last bit. She also confirmed that you're a Federal Investigator, having completed your training at Quantico and passed your assessments, including key contributions to national cases with the FBI."

Looking at each other, Beckett and Castle keep their comments to themselves, letting raised brows and small smiles confirm their pleasant surprise to each other.

"But the best part," Paula cackles, "the absolute _best_ part? She called you 'Rick' at one point." Castle groans immediately, knowing what's coming next. "So, now the media is speculating about what's going on there and whether your current muse is going to object to a new woman on the scene, especially if you've gone federal. It's _fantastic_ – this'll keep you in the papers for _weeks_, at least."

Now Beckett's groaning, too, catching up with Castle on the implications of Shaw's slip of the tongue. Before she can get properly worked up about it, though, Castle speaks clearly and concisely.

"Shut it down, Paula," he says sternly.

"I knew you were going to get all soft about this," Paula laments. "You're absolutely sure?"

"Completely. She has a young daughter and has done nothing to warrant this kind of attention," Castle nearly growls. "It's just as well that this happened now, because I wanted to have this talk with you anyway, but it got lost with all of the Bracken activity. It's time to change the tenor of my public persona," Castle says earnestly. "I'm done with the playboy. Don't complain," he says quickly, cutting off Paula's objections to what is a much more serious change than she expected.

"I've given you a mature novel to use as the pivot point. My writing intentions haven't changed – I'm not going to stop writing Nikki, and I might even play around with Storm again. But my personal intentions are more grounded and mature now. You've seen the change in the last few years," Castle continues, touching on an issue that makes Beckett proud and Paula annoyed. "My daughter is a grown woman, and it's time for me to act more like a grown man. Shutting down the speculation about Jordan is going to start a trend of my romantic developments remaining out of the press."

"That'll kill your book sales," Paula says flatly, annoyed both by his plan and what she knows his response will be.

"Perhaps," Castle says easily. "I'll get by, if so."

"So, you're whipped already?" Paula says with some derision, looking at Beckett.

"Kate hasn't asked me to address any of this," Castle says again, retaining his calm. "The point is that she shouldn't need to."

Turning to Beckett, Castle continues. "Don't freak out on me here, Beckett. I'm not signing us up for anything or making any assumptions. But, I think we might benefit from some privacy, some time and space to explore."

"Thank you," Beckett says simply, grasping Castle's hand.

"Well, you two are just disgusting," Paula says with a roll of her eyes. "I'll kill the NYPD-FBI love triangle thing, as much as it's the dumbest thing you've probably ever had me do," she says, "and that says a lot." Standing and heading toward the door, Paula adjusts her course and stops at the side of Castle's bed. Beckett's hackles rise as Paula reaches for Castle's cheek, expecting him to receive yet another caress from yet another woman. But she's surprised when Paula delivers a sharp slap rather than a caress. "I'm glad you're okay, you jackass. Don't scare me like that again."

Then, before either of them can react, Paula struts out the door.

* * *

**St. Luke's Hospital, New Jersey, Thursday, ~1:00 PM**

"So, you ready to get out of here?" Beckett asks as she re-enters Castle's room and sees him trying to pull an FBI sweatshirt over his head. Between the bruises and his bad shoulder, he's making a hash of the job. Stilling his efforts with a hand to his chest, Beckett asks gently "May I help?"

"Only if you agree to help me take it off later," Castle says, reaching for his old friends innuendo and deflection. Ignoring both, Beckett helps him into the sweatshirt before delivering a gentle kiss. "Cheer up, babe. You're healing already and will be back to full strength soon."

Castle lets out a hearty sigh be his answer as he moves about the room to pack up his small set of belongings and get-well gifts. "So, what's the word from the precinct?"

"We have separate meetings tomorrow," Beckett replies. "I've got to face a review board resulting from the Simmons shooting, while you've got something with Gates and the Commissioner."

"They're not going to give you trouble, are they?" Castle asks, ignoring the news about his own meeting.

"No, I should be fine. It's standard after an officer-involved shooting. The only wrinkle is that it follows so closely on the heels of the shooting at Alexis' graduation. But, the film footage from the hangar should make the review board a formality."

"Good," Castle replies as he wraps her in an embrace, happy to just hold on while standing in place for a bit.

"How're we getting home?" Castle asks when he finally lets go.

"The feds have a car downstairs," Beckett replies. "We'll slip out the back, as there are some media waiting outside. But, Jordan wants a protective detail on us, so we get the red-carpet treatment."

"Do me a favor?" Castle asks, and Beckett can tell from the tone of his voice that it's a big ask he's about to reveal.

"I don't know, Rick," she says slyly as she leans in for another kiss. "You might have to convince me."

Moments later, after nearly forgetting his name as well as his request, Castle collects enough of his wits to get back on point. "Stay with me tonight?" he asks shyly.

"Oh, Rick, I want to, but I don't know if that's a good idea," Beckett frets, torn between interfering with his home life and staying with him. "You need to spend time with Alexis."

"I think we all need to spend time together," Castle replies. "She needs to see you, too. She's worried – don't forget that she knows the details of what we were doing. Besides," he says quietly, "I'm not sure that I could sleep without worrying about whether you were okay."

"I'm not the one who's been shot twice or bounced around in a car trunk," Beckett teases. "I might sleep better knowing that you're okay and where you're supposed to be."

"Here's the part where I really overstep," Castle warns. "Your dad would be welcome to stay at the loft if he's interested or if you want him close. If he's in the guest room, though, there won't be any mystery about where you're staying."

"I'll come over," Beckett promises, "but let me think about dad. I might …," she trails off, until Castle prompts her to continue. "I might ask Alexis for her opinion."

"I can behave like a gentleman if I need to," Castle promises before looking put out at Beckett's guffaw.

"Rick, you have a bullet hole in one shoulder and bruised ribs from another gunshot. Your face and body are a rainbow of bruises, and I'm still healing from the beating I took on the rooftop. I'm entertaining the thought of having dad join us mostly because it would be obvious that we wouldn't be getting up to anything."

"Kate," Castle objects. "I've worshipped you for years, and finally being able to touch you is the answer to many, many prayers. I'd have to be in a coma before I'd lack the energy to be with you."

"Here's my offer," Beckett says, harkening back to their bartering during her recent hospital stay. "We just cuddle tonight, and in return you get to open this," she says as she pulls out a small, teal paper bag festooned with ribbons and tissue paper.

"What's that?" Castle looks on skeptically, offended both by the notion of just cuddling and by the color of the bag.

"It's a Bag of Indulgence, of course," Beckett says while extending the bag to him. "As soon as we can get free at the precinct, I was thinking we should head back to the Hamptons for some recuperation and rehab. Here's the outfit I plan to wear."

Suddenly a much bigger fan of this plan, Castle happily plucks the bag out of Beckett's hand. Setting it on the bed so that he can open it, he frowns as he digs through the tissue paper and says "It's empty – there's nothing."

"Exactly," Beckett says with a Cheshire grin. In response, Castle looks much happier about his upcoming rehabilitation efforts.

* * *

**12****th**** Precinct, Friday ~12:15 PM**

"Hey, Jordan," Beckett greets the FBI agent as she walks into the Homicide bullpen. "You look all packed up – are you pulling up stakes?"

"Yes, finally," Shaw says with a happy sigh. "Whatever I need to do can be accomplished from Chicago, and I'm anxious to see my daughter again. Sampson and his crew can shepherd the local effort."

"Jordan, I just want to say thank you, again," Beckett says earnestly. "I'm still in a state of shock that Bracken's actually locked up. After years and years, we're finally here, and that's thanks in large part to you."

"You're welcome, Kate," Shaw says with a smile. "But you know who really pushed this along, right? Two people got us here – you and your partner. As your boss might say, I was just along for the ride."

"Hardly," Beckett chuffs, but she appreciates the sentiment and the humor. "Trust me, I know exactly why we're here, and exactly how much Castle did to bring us to this point. I may have been guilty of not recognizing his contributions in the past, but that's not an issue now."

"That sounds great, Kate," Shaw says with a raised brow. "Just keep my name out of that part of things, right? The story of the cop and the writer is a good one, but it doesn't need any embellishment. I'm not too keen on my first foray into the tabloids."

"Yeah, I heard about that," Beckett grimaces. "Sorry."

"The damage was minimal," Shaw replied with a wink, "but my daughter doesn't need to read that – she has enough fodder for future therapy and teenage rebellion just based on things I've actually done. I do appreciate how quickly Paula seems to have been able to squelch that speculation, though."

"Glad she's on our side," Beckett agrees.

"Well," Shaw segues bluntly by looking at her watch, "speaking of my daughter, I should probably be shoving off."

"Do you have to leave right now? I know Castle also wants to pass along his thanks and say goodbye," Beckett says.

"Where is he?" Shaw asks, looking around the bullpen.

"In there," Beckett motions with a nod toward the conference room. "He should've been out already, but it looks like they're still going strong. At least they aren't shouting anymore."

"Shouting?" Shaw asks. "I've got to say, that doesn't sound like Castle's style."

"No, shouting isn't his style," Beckett agrees, "but frustrating people to the point where _they_ shout is right up his alley." Noticing Shaw's interest, Beckett clarifies. "He's in there with my Captain, the Commissioner, and an attorney from 1PP. I suspect he's caused some vexation," she finishes with a smirk.

"Then I'm definitely going to catch my flight," Shaw says while gathering herself to depart. "Have him give me a call, and we'll see each other again soon enough. Pass along my regards and good luck holding things together when he's finished with whatever mischief he's causing in there."

Laughing, Beckett gives Shaw a quick hug and walks her to the elevator. After parting, she takes the opportunity to check in with Esposito and Ryan, both of whom still feel a little put out for having missed the hangar confrontation with Bracken. She's trying to raise their spirits when the conference room door opens. By the looks on the faces of the meeting attendees as they emerge, no one would suspect that the meeting had been heated or confrontational. It's all smiles and back-slapping, hand-shakes and promises of 'doing lunch' sometime down the road. The smell of fakery is nearly overpowering.

Wandering over to his team after parting with the Commissioner and the attorney at the elevator, Castle mumbles "Can we go out for lunch? I've got to get out of here for a little while."

"Are we invited?" Esposito asks gruffly, but Castle's mood prevents him from a playful reply. "Sure, let's just go."

Opting for Chinese today, the team commandeers a corner booth at a place near the precinct, nodding hello to two other groups of cops as they walk through the restaurant. Familiarity allows them to place their order while they're still sitting down, without need to look at a menu.

"So, how'd the review board go?" Castle asks Beckett. Though the team is more interested to hear what the Commissioner had to say, they go along with Castle's efforts to address Beckett's situation first.

"It was weird, actually," Beckett admits. "It wasn't really a hearing – they described what happened as I would have, then just asked me if I agreed. They cleared the shooting in minutes. The rest of the time was almost a performance review. They were very interested in my feelings about the 12th, about how it's been with Gates as Captain, how we've been able to work with a 'non-NYPD' member on the team."

"That's an interesting way to refer to Castle," Ryan notes.

"That's what I was thinking – they were careful to not say 'civilian,'" Beckett explains.

Castle grins at this exchange before wading in himself. "Did they offer you anything – another team member, better resources?"

"Nothing directly," Beckett muses, "but there were many questions about our resources and some speculation about improvements. Why? What's going on?"

"They're afraid that you're going to leave," Castle explains. "Jordan said that you mentioned taking some heat for the less official aspects of the Bracken investigation?" At her nod, Castle continues. "She let it be known that she'd be happy to add you to her team. The folks at 1PP don't want you to go anywhere."

Beckett looks pensive while Esposito and Ryan lean back in the booth, uncomfortable with this development.

"Did this come up in your meeting, too?" Beckett inquires, wondering if Castle knows his comments to be true or if he's speculating.

Nodding, Castle explains. "There were three parts of my meeting, and this was the first. The Commissioner is very interested in keeping the four of us together as a group. But we've got '_opportunities_,'" Castle smirks, bringing back that loaded word that made the rounds after the Cartwright case.

"Oh yeah?" Beckett asks. "What are they, Mr. Investigator?"

"That's the first one," Castle smirks. "I retain my FBI affiliation and work as an embedded member at the NYPD, under the structure of the Joint Task Force. Or, I could drop the Investigator title and we can go back to the way things have been for the past few years. I'd lose my credentials, but I'd also be back to being an unconstrained loose cannon, which is appealing solely for the aggravation it would cause Gates," he says with a mischievous glint in his eye, and Beckett suspects she now knows one of the topics that caused the Captain to raise her voice.

"Or," Castle continues, "you can join me in federal employ, in which we can both remain here under the JTF or formally join Jordan's group, working either from here or from Chicago."

Ryan and Esposito are looking glum, but neither of them speak, saved from responding by the arrival of their lunch order. Beckett's not so reticent. "What do you think we should do?" she asks Castle, who seems immensely pleased with how she posed the question.

"I think we should take some time to think about our options," Castle responds promptly. "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a little adrift right now, still high from how things went down at the hangar, but not sure what happens next."

"Exactly," Beckett smiles, happy that she's not alone in this feeling. After all, she's hardly allowed herself to think about options unrelated to the need to seek her mother's killer. A year ago she might've jumped at a federal offer as a way to get access to more and better ways of pursuing her case. But, now she can make a decision based on what she _wants_ to do, not what she _needs_ to do. And, though their relationship is still relatively young, she can also factor Castle into her plans for the future. Some time to think about what happens next, personally and professionally, sounds perfect. "Let's take some time to think about what we want for the future," she says with a small smile.

"In case you were wondering," Esposito busts in, "I'd vote for you both to stay around, even though this whole _dating_ thing gets a little revolting." Ryan remains quiet, but his fist-bump with his partner clearly declares his thoughts on the matter.

Chuckling at Esposito, and then at herself as she realizes that she's laughing about being teased about her relationship with Castle, something that would've seemed impossible a year ago, Beckett turns back to Castle after taking a quick bite of lunch. "So, what else did you talk about?"

Looking around briefly to ensure that there aren't any eavesdroppers, Castle answers with "My old friend, and what happens to him."

That sobers the team quickly. Looking at him, Beckett prompts Castle to explain. "I made another pitch to get him some help, but I got shut down immediately."

"They're going to prosecute? There's been a curious silence in the media about this, other than 'a sudden illness,'" Ryan notes. Of the three detectives, he seems least offended by Weldon's actions, but Beckett thinks this is because he was unconscious or groggy for much of what transpired in the cabin.

"They've lost him," Castle explains, then rushes in to correct this misimpression he created. "They know where he is, but the feds have him," he clarifies. "I think they're working on something, some kind of deal. Even back when everything went down, Jordan seemed a little cagey about what might happen to him. But I haven't been able to wheedle information out of anyone," Castle vents his frustration.

"Hey," Beckett says, catching his attention. "He's alive, and they might be giving him the opportunity to make some amends," she says optimistically. "Count your blessings for now, and we'll see if we can't figure out some details."

Giving her a thankful nod, Castle takes a bite before forging ahead. "Thanks, Kate. You're right, of course, I'm just worried about him. But," he says, his voice changing to sound more optimistic. "The last part of our conversation went much better."

"Since there was a considerable amount of yelling going on and neither our future nor your friend's situation seems to have caused it, I'm guessing that this is where my Puck had his fun," Beckett says with a grin.

"Your _what_?" Esposito immediately cuts in. "There's a limit to what I can take, and if you two are going to start talking like that, you need to take it to Chicago."

"Puck, idiot, **P**-u-c-k," Beckett says with an eye roll. "A mischievous forest sprite in Shakespeare's _A_ _Midsummer Night's Dream_."

"Oh," Esposito says in embarrassment while Ryan tries to avoid spewing out his water as he laughs at his partner. "So, what'd you do?" he asks quickly to shift attention back to Castle.

"We had a discussion about Montgomery, and Evelyn's benefits," Castle says smugly. "That's why the attorney was there. It took a few rounds to make sure that she retains her benefits," he finishes with a shrug.

"What did you do?" Beckett asks pointedly. "Going a few rounds doesn't explain the volume level, or the passion. Singe any bridges in there?"

"I don't think so," Castle replies with a sly smile. "Let's just say that they'd have walked out naked if we'd have been playing poker. They're _terrible_ at bluffing, or calling a bluff." Castle takes another quick bite while the detectives look annoyed at the pause.

"They want Rutherford – Smith – to testify in Bracken's trial. But they don't know how to find him. They want me testify, help build the case, tell a story to the jury. They want … many things," Castle says. "Can you imagine any scenario where I wouldn't fully cooperate in Bracken's prosecution after everything we've been through to get here?" he chuckles. "But, still – I dragged my feet and acted reticent until Evelyn's benefits were secured. We got there in the end, but it was messy."

"So, who was yelling – Gates or the Commissioner?" Ryan asks, face alight while imagining the moxie to taunt either of them, much less both.

"It went back and forth," Castle shrugs. "Mostly the Commissioner, ranting about what kind of precedent we'd set by protecting the benefits of a dirty cop." Seeing that the detectives were uncomfortable with the description, Castle hastens his story. "Which is why I explained that the narrative arc of a _redeemed cop_ is a much better way to go. And, of course, you can't sell the redemption story at the same time you're cutting off his widow and children."

"I take it the Commissioner didn't enjoy being hemmed in this way?" Beckett asks with a smirk.

"No, no he didn't. Not at all," Castle says with some grim satisfaction. "Which made it that much more fun. You know me – I'm much more about forgiveness than retribution, but I will confess that I got a bit of a thrill out of jamming him up after his participation in the Cartwright press conference."

"But you're all friends now?" Ryan asks with a raised brow. "It looked like a political convention with all the smiley handshakes when you were done."

"Sure, we're all friends," Castle says. "We have a better appreciation of each other now. We'll disagree again, I don't doubt, but we're on the same page for now. We'll present a unified front for the Bracken prosecution."

"What was Gates' take on all this?" Beckett asks, truly wondering about the woman who has seemed like a cypher for so much of their recent activities. Riding them hard one moment, pulling Beckett aside during another, Beckett's having a hard time pinning down her Captain's motivations.

"She a complex one," Castle says with a tone of grudging admiration. "I think she's trying to walk a fine line between being upset with the way things happened while at the same time admitting that there might not have been another way. She's embarrassed that there was a mole in the precinct, which she takes as a slight to her IA credentials. But most of all, I think she's looking to protect the precinct, to use this as proof of how good we are."

"I can see some of that," Esposito says, looking for details, "but where's the yelling?"

"You'll be shocked to learn that only some of the shouting was directed at me," Castle says happily. "Some early frustration about Montgomery. But she appreciates where I'm coming from on my friend after our talk in the car," he says with a look at Beckett, "and she values a strong precinct more than punishing the memory of a multifaceted former Captain. So, more of her shouting was aimed at getting the Commissioner on board."

"Wait a minute," Esposito interjects, "just wait a minute. You're telling me that Gates – our boss – was shouting at the _Commissioner_?"

"No way," Ryan adds, disputing Castle's nod.

"And I'll tell you what," Castle adds, looking around again to ensure that his words won't go any further than this table, "I think we've underestimated Gates. Who else comes out of this looking better? She runs the precinct that brought down Bracken. She's on the paperwork as the architect of the Joint Task Force with the FBI. She's the one who, with a wink and a nod, can convert all the negative attention from her comments at the Cartwright press conference into positive attention about her ability to play the long game. I think her challenge to the Commissioner is a warning – if I were him, I'd watch my back."

* * *

**The Hamptons, Saturday ~8:30 AM**

"Again," Beckett demands of an exhausted Castle.

"You're kidding, right?" Castle groans while catching his breath. "At this rate, my rehab will kill me."

"Just one more time and we'll get cleaned up for breakfast," Beckett tempts, until they're both distracted by the ringing of Castle's cell phone.

"That's Alexis," Castle says to Beckett's nod, reaching for the phone. While Castle starts to talk to his daughter, Beckett takes the opportunity to taunt him, engaging in some of her most suggestive yoga poses while he struggles to form coherent words for his conversation with his daughter.

"All set," Castle declares as he quickly tosses his phone aside, eyes still firmly attached to Beckett. "That was my daughter being prudent, giving us a one-hour warning before she arrives with my mother and your father."

"Whatever could we do while we wait?" Beckett asks, continuing her yoga routine while wearing only what she'd included in her Bag of Indulgence for Castle.

"Oh, I know what I want to do," Castle growls in response.

"I thought you were worn out," Beckett says breathily as she stands and slinks towards the bed. "Which doesn't make sense, since I'm the one doing all the work…"

"Oh, Beckett," Castle says with a rough, low voice, "you need to have more faith in me. As soon as I'm healed, I'll be able to love you properly."

"Castle," Beckett says earnestly as she begins to crawl across the bed to him, "you've been loving me properly for years."

* * *

**The Hamptons, Saturday ~1:30 PM**

"So, how's your dad?" Castle asks as Beckett approaches where he's been sitting on the beach, watching the water and thinking for the past half hour.

Rather than take a seat next to him, Beckett holds out her hands to help him stand. Frowning at his lack of a sling, she refrains from saying anything, but he knows what she's thinking. "Tan lines, Beckett. No slings on the beach. Besides, the therapeutic virtue of surf and salt air more than compensate."

"Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Castle, or have your spirit crystals identified this beach as a source of convergent chi fields?" Beckett smirks as Castle dusts the sand off himself.

"You know, Beckett, I'm not sure which of those would be more cool," he says with a laugh, watching her face to see if he can coax out a smile. Beckett can see that he realizes her smile doesn't reach her eyes. Before she can say anything, he holds out his right hand and says "Walk with me?"

"I've got to, right?" she replies, trying to lighten her mood. "It's one of our _things_."

Castle wears his own soft smile as they start to walk, but he remains quiet, allowing Beckett to frame her thoughts. She can't help but to steal looks at him, though. She still can't believe that they're here, that she's reached a place in her life where she can walk unencumbered on a beautiful beach, holding hands with a beautiful man, her future wide open before her.

"Dad's okay," she says, breaking her silence. They continue walking collecting thoughts as well as shells.

"My idea about holding off on charges from mom's case caught him off guard," she says quietly, forcing Castle to strain to hear over the sound of the waves, "but he likes the idea better than I do. I'm … not confident that he would make it through the trial without doing something drastic if we were talking about mom."

They walk a few more steps before Castle speaks. He's careful to keep his eyes on the horizon, trying to give her emotional distance, though he's not willing to leave her side.

"What happened?" he asks quietly, knowing from her tone that something has Beckett troubled.

"We spoke in the library," she answers, thinking of the peaceful room in his house that only an author could design as such a welcoming haven, even set on the paradise of the beach. "There was a moment when we first started talking about my plan when his eyes darted to the cabinet where you keep your scotch …"

"Oh, Beckett, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think," Castle says, disgusted with himself. "We can dump it all as soon as we get back."

"No, Rick, no," Beckett soothes, dropping his hand and clasping his elbow instead, letting her head fall sideways against his upper arm even as they continue their walk. "I know it's a daily struggle, and I know that he'll have to fight temptation every day of his life." She goes quiet as they continue walking, but both of them know that there's something more fundamental on her mind.

After a few minutes, she takes a deep breath and hazards more words. "I'd just let myself hope for this as the happy ending that erases all of our problems. But it's not. Habits we developed over years aren't going to just disappear because Bracken has to face a trial. I've never really thought about what we do now, how we deal with the damage, how we find new goals."

"One day at a time," Castle says softly, "with the people we love."

His quick response strikes a chord and encourages Beckett to tug on his arm so that the plop down on the beach, looking out over the water. Leaning heavily against him, Beckett enjoys the serenity of the moment and the beauty of their surroundings before continuing.

"Thank you, Rick," she says while giving him a squeeze. "We'll find our way, we always have. I'm just going to apologize now for some of the hand-wringing that might follow."

"Kate," Castle says while taking her hand. He seems to be struggling with something, but Beckett gives him the same patient silence that he gave her. "I think I've made my intentions for us clear, maybe frighteningly so. This is it for me, has been it for me for a while now. I will do anything to fight for our future together." He pauses, clearly on the cusp of whatever it is that has him concerned. "Anything," he repeats quietly, "including letting you go, if that's what you need."

"Oh, Rick," Beckett sighs and leans even more into him. "Not that. Never that."

"I know you're a private person, Kate," Castle continues, fighting himself to release the words. "And if you need to work this out on your own, I'll be here. I'll always be here."

"I know that, Castle," Beckett speaks with conviction through the tears that have started to gather, "I _know_ that. It's my bedrock, my touchstone, that faith I have in your presence and support. Please hear this, Rick: we're here now, together and safer than we've ever been, because of you, because you've always been there." Placing her head on his good shoulder, Beckett wants desperately for him to believe, but he's still tense.

"I'm not the tainted gift?" Castle asks quietly, and Beckett is once again taken by the difference between the brash bravado of his public reputation and the emotional vulnerability of his true personality.

"No, Rick," she says with a sigh. "I know what you're talking about, and I've thought it through. I don't know what Montgomery's motivations were toward me, whether the times he seemed to be helpful were genuine or were designed to steer me away from advancing my mom's case. So, I don't know whether his encouraging your efforts at the precinct, his encouraging me to let you in, were made with good intentions or not. But it doesn't matter. 'You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good,'" Beckett concludes, pulling a quote from the recesses of her memory.

This catches Castle's attention, causes him to first look at her and then rest his head against hers.

"What did you say about our near misses, our 'near-tragic romance story'?" Beckett asks. "It all brought us to this point. I don't care how we got here. We're here, together, in love," she says with a squeeze, "with our enemy vanquished, or at least torn down."

Castle remains quiet, but she feels him relax as he delivers a sweet kiss to the crown of her head.

"So," he says with a brighter tone, "we look forward?"

"'Onward!' As someone I love once said," she replies with a smirk.

"We've got a blank canvas, Kate. We've got options. Maybe we can build some theory this weekend, trace out what we want to do for Act Three?" Castle suggests.

"Let's do it, Rick," she says as she stands and again helps him up. "For now, let's go enjoy some time with our family. We don't need to make any decisions today."

"Agreed," Castle says with satisfaction. "NYPD or FBI, New York or Chicago, or something entirely new and different. We're young," he says, provoking a raised brow, "relatively," he appends with feigned annoyance, "talented, and rich. The world is our playground."

Humming in satisfaction, Beckett holds onto Castle's right arm as they start the walk back toward the beach house. They're not alone on the sand, occasionally passing others, but paying them no mind. Beckett's enjoying the sun and surf until she feels Castle tense beside her.

"Looks like one more round," he mumbles as a jogger approaches them. With nearly silver blond hair in a ponytail, expensive workout clothes, and dark sunglasses, she looks like an aggrieved trophy wife making a break for it.

"Am I still not supposed to say your name?" Castle asks as the woman approaches, provoking an annoyed huff in response.

"What gave me away?" Danielle Britton asks as she bends to pretend to attend to the laces on her running shoes.

"The way you move," Castle replies affably. "You look much different, but you move the same way."

"Nice to know that you were looking," Britton says with a smile, testing Beckett's patience for this meeting. Before she can enter the discussion, Castle pipes up.

"You still okay? I've got some resources out here if you need help," he offers.

"You are a nurturer, I'll give you that," Britton replies cheekily. "But I'm good. In fact, I'm great now. I'm legit – new employer, clean record, and a world of opportunity."

"That's … great," Beckett manages, wondering how Britton skirted the consequences of her previous loyalties.

"Thanks," Britton says with seeming sincerity as she stands up. Things might not have worked out as Britton had hoped, but she recognizes the effort that Beckett is making at being cordial.

"I left you a present," Britton says, turning to Castle. "Don't worry, it's not ticking or anything," she says with a laugh. "I didn't want to disturb your family, so it's in the trunk of your car."

"Should I thank you or head in the opposite direction?" Castle asks with a raised brow.

"Don't be a pansy now," Britton chides. "You've done so well so far. But heal up and keep up the gym routine," Britton says, and as fast as a blink she punches Castle's good shoulder before he can move. Shaking her head at his pathetic lack of reaction, Britton says "and keep sparring. We might need your help soon," she says as she stretches and prepares to resume her run.

"We?" Castle and Beckett ask in unison.

"Your dad's a good boss, Castle," Britton says, smiling at the sudden inhalations from both partners. "You've never been as alone as you might've thought." Seeing both of them momentarily at a loss for words, Britton sizes them up and prepares to leave. As happened in the premises of the old magic shop, though, she can't force herself to go without a final parting comment.

"'Be excellent to each other,'" she quotes wistfully, then resumes her jog down the beach.

* * *

**The Hamptons, Saturday ~2:30 PM**

Britton's nearly lost to sight by the time Castle shakes off his shock. Beckett roused earlier, but gave him the time he needed to come back to himself. Blinking owlishly, he turns to Beckett with a look of confusion.

"My dad?" he asks rhetorically. Beckett can only shrug, then take his arm and point them back towards the beach house.

"What are we, fate's whoopee cushion?" Castle asks as they walk. "More than a decade seeking justice for your mom, and as soon as that looks like it might be resolved, my dad appears after 40 years? Ridiculous."

"It looks like maybe we have one more option for our future than we thought," Beckett replies, trying to remain positive and optimistic. At Castle's quick look to her, she follows up. "Come on, Castle, this can't be a surprise. You've been at my side for years working to finish my mom's story. Of course I'll be at your side for your dad's."

"Extraordinary," Castle replies, tightening his hold on his partner. "Don't worry, by the way," he says after a few steps. "I'm not going to jump in impulsively. I've built a fantastic life without him, and I'm not going to jeopardize _anything_," he says while looking at her intently, "to know him. Especially if I have to be in good physical and fighting shape – that seemed a little odd."

"I know, right?" Beckett says with tongue in cheek, adopting one of Castle's sayings. As Castle chuckles in recognition, Beckett follows up: "It was odd, but also a little intriguing, right?"

"Maybe," Castle drawls in response, but his mischievous look gives away his interest, and Beckett laughs in response.

"Come on, Castle," she says, tugging on his arm to lead him up to the house. "Let's go see what's in your present."

Their joviality fades a bit as they enter the dark garage and face Castle's car. Opting to leave the garage closed, Castle pauses a moment before walking around to open the driver's door, reaching down to press the trunk release. The soft mechanic clang of the release echoes in the enclosed garage as the trunk lid rises halfway under its own power.

Walking around to the back of the car, Castle nudges the trunk lid to open it all the way. From her spot on the side of the car, Beckett can't see in the trunk but she does see Castle relax as he laughs.

"If it is a bomb," Castle says as he reaches into the trunk to extract the package, "at least I'll go out in style," he says as he closes the trunk and puts the package on top.

"Is that _Bill and Ted_ wrapping paper?" Beckett asks incredulously.

"It is," Castle says with a chuckle. "'Strange things are afoot at the Circle-K.'"

"Don't tell Alexis that I haven't seen this one, either," Beckett asks. "My required viewing list is already pretty long."

"It's one of my favorites," Castle acknowledges. "I'll look forward to introducing you next time we're in a mood for something a little light. Shall we?" he asks, nodding at the package.

"Let's get it on, Castle," she replies with a wink.

After a deep breath, Castle tears into the package like a young child who awoke early on Christmas morning. Wrapping paper discarded, Castle pulls the lid of a box free as Beckett moves to his side.

At first glance, the box contains two items, and Beckett sighs in delight at the sight of the first. There, sitting atop a book, is her personal sidearm, the one that Britton took after the confrontation in the old magic shop. Cradling it like a young girl might clutch a beloved stuffed animal, Beckett recognizes that while it might seem ridiculous, she loves this weapon, has depended on it, and felt oddly exposed with its loss. Her appreciation of and tolerance for Britton raises a bit as Beckett realizes that the ex-FBI agent understands what this means.

Looking up, she expects to see Castle ready to tease her about the heart-felt reunion scene. Instead, she sees a look of far-away introspection on his face as his fingers gently stroke the cover of _Casino Royale_. Recognizing that there's a significance to this scene, Beckett stands beside Castle with an arm around him, anchoring him while he floats on whatever memories cascade around him.

"When I was young," he says, "a man gave me this book. It was my first inspiration," he says quietly. "I haven't talked about it. If he knew … Kate, I think I met my father, long, long ago."

Castle trails off into silence again, the best indication that he's truly shaken. Slowly, reverently, he lifts the book from the box. Gently opening the cover produces three more surprises.

The first: $2,000 in cash. Apparently Britton was intent on returning everything she borrowed during or after their meeting.

The second: an index card with two small chips taped to it, copies of the ones Castle had found that night in the Old Haunt, which they'd assumed had been planted by the FBI, maybe by Britton herself. Scrawled on the card is a short note: '_It's easier to keep an eye on you if I know where to look._'

The third: a business card bearing nothing but a phone number and another scrawled note: '_Call me._'

"Come on, Castle," Beckett says as she tugs his arm after their inventory is complete. "Let's get back into the light. I want to spend some time with the people we love, and then we'll decide what we'll do next."

"Together?" he asks as he closes the book and extends his elbow to her.

"Together," she confirms as she hooks her arm through his. "Always."

* * *

**A/N: For those of you have made it to the end, many, many thanks. It was a much longer journey than I planned, but it's been a blast. In wrapping this up, there are three points I'd like to make:**

**An Appreciation**. It may be ridiculous, but those email notifications alerting me to new reviews, PMs, followers, or favorites sure lifted my spirits along the way. I want to thank everyone who took the time to read Breaking Away or send reviews or PMs. I especially want to thank CaskettFan5, who provided excellent feedback and advice, and who was kind enough to communicate through PM after showing an uncanny ability to predict where this story was going.

**A Confession**. Now that it's done, I can admit that this story went places I never intended it to go. As initially charted out, it was supposed to have been around 12 chapters, the same general length as Just Along for the Ride, which set up this story. But my goal with Breaking Away was to show that the characters we enjoy could engage on meaningful levels, could build viable emotional relationships without sacrificing the humor, tension, and mystery of the show. Whether successful or not, laying the groundwork for that goal took more words than I expected, but was also great fun.

**A Request**. If you made it this far, I'm hoping that I can coax you just a little bit further. As I try to figure out this creative writing thing, it would really help to know where I did something well or where something just didn't work. If you could drop me a line (review or PM, whatever) to let me know one thing that you liked or hated, found interesting or distracting, or even dialog that worked or didn't, I'd greatly appreciate it. I've got four potential stories that I could explore, all of which will be a bit different from this one (ranging from angsty pre-Caskett to bizarrely AU to an alternate meeting AU), but I think I'll start by adding a chapter to Coming Clean. Any effort will be improved by constructive feedback.

As for Breaking Away: The End. (At least for now.)


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